Objects in Motion
by EpsilonZero
Summary: "Who could foresee the divergent directions our lives would take in only six short years?" Tamaki wondered aloud. "Kyouya might have." Haruhi said, a laugh in her voice.   TamakixKyouya HikaruxKaoru HaruhixKasanoda
1. Prologue

_**Title: Objects in Motion**  
_

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, HikaruxKaoru, Slight HaurhixKasanoda_

_Warnings: Slightly OOC Fuyumi Ootori, gay stuff (obviously, this is Ouran after all)_

_Summary: "You're ruthless." whipsered Yoshio in awe. "I'm an Ootori." replied Kyouya._

The late Spring breeze flew lazily over the sweeping foot hills of the Ootori estate. The scents of new spring and dead, decaying winter intermingled as it blew through the sparse, manicured foliage and up onto the balcony where Kyouya sat.

It was five in the morning and cold, but that did not deter Kyouya in his quest for open atmosphere and fresh air. After hours of studying at his desk he'd grown weary much earlier than usual and had moved to his balcony in hopes of extending his waking ours. It was a necessary measure, given the importance of his current project.

As with many other nights, he was investigating his most recent leads as to the whereabouts of Tamaki's mother. To his disappointment, he'd already ruled out every lead he'd collected in the past several weeks in one night of work. Sighing, he stood from his chair, walking to the edge of the balcony.

He'd been very optimistic about this week's leads. Several of them had sounded plausible; sightings around Paris and the like. But one by one he'd found them all to be coincidences or outright fakes. Perhaps he would cancel the cash reward he'd issued.

The wind picked up tossing the greenery about like bouys at sea, urging the clouds to glide faster across the canvas of the sky. In a matter of minutes a full, glowing moon peaked out from behind the front, casting the grounds in an eerie glow.

Kyouya enjoyed the night. The peaceful solitude that granted him uninterrupted focus and a certain clarity of mind that he could only hope for during daylight. That was why he did this after all, looking for Tamaki's mother was a personal project with no concrete reward. He did it because it gave him an excuse to stay awake until such absurd hours of the morning.

Kyouya laughed derisively at his own expense. That was a shallow lie, even to his ears. Any 2-bit psychologist would tell him that he was projecting. That he was looking vicariously for his own mother through Tamaki. His mother who wasn't lost. He stifled those thoughts firmly, instead turning to power down his laptop and retire to bed.

It had been a long, successful night's work and now he was ready to let sleep overcome him. The only thing better than a night of accomplishments was a long, Saturday sleep-in.

However, the moment he returned to his room his phone rang, like a siren in the stern silence of the house. The blinding LED display told him it was his father. Apparently his sleeping habits were more hereditary than he had suspected.

Jokingly he wondered to himself if his father had been watching him again. The timing was just too perfect. He answered.

"Yes, Father?"

"Please come to my office."

The line went dead with a resounding click.

Kyouya smiled knowingly. It seemed that his father had finally gotten the memo Kyouya had sent earlier that day. He retrieved a thick manila envelope from his desk and headed for the door.

This would be fun.


	2. Prologue Part 2

**_Title: Objects in Motion_**

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, HikaruxKaoru, Slight HaurhixKasanoda_

_Warnings: Slightly OOC Fuyumi Ootori, gay stuff (obviously, this is Ouran after all)_

Kyouya walked briskly into the staunch, monochrome office of Ootori Yoshio, a relaxed smile on his face, eyes glinting.

The office was large, even by Kyouya's standards, and included a long entry way with a narrow black runway carpet leading up a twin set of circular stairs. Between the stairs was a small parlor intended for greeting dignitaries and intimidating business clients. Only servants and family were allowed upstairs, where the Ootori head's large black desk sat, front and center. On either side were six symmetrical floor-to-ceiling windows and two tall, black bookcases with file folders and unsmiling family pictures. In the center of it all, proud and angry, sat Ootori Yoshio himself, a king on a solid black throne.

"Is there something you require of me, Father?" He asked in thinly veiled mock innocence. He knew he was on thin ice, gloating before he had even seized victory, but in this instance he allowed himself the indulgence.

Yoshio was holding a copy of the Komatsuzawa morning newspaper, of which the margins clearly read "PROOF COPY, NOT FOR RESALE OR DISTRIBUTION". Yoshio's brow twitched with restraint. Flipping the paper around he revealed the front page article to Kyouya.

"_**SUOU-OOTORI LOVE AFFAIR? SECRETS OF THE UNEXPECTED HEIR REVEALED!**_"

Kyouya did his father the service of feigning suprise.

"What is this?" Yoshio yelled. It was rare for him to raise his voice, Kyouya chuckled lightly at his predictability.

"Akira Komatsuzawa-kun will publish anything these days, won't he?"

"This is not a laughing matter, Kyouya." Yoshio said sternly, rising from his chair.

Seeing his father's reaction, Kyouya calmed himself, settling into a small tight smirk.

At his silence, Yoshio continued, Kyouya's ears peaked at the tone of hesitation in his father's voice. "Is this true, Kyouya?"

A suffocating silence entered the room. The kind that creeps up one's spine and settles deep in one's stomach. Kyouya reveled in it, waiting to see if his father would crack. He didn't.

The only sound was that of their breathing. Not a muscle in Kyouya's body moved. The silence stretched on, until the clock chimed six. For a split second, Yoshio's eyes darted to the clock and the paper in his hand twitched. Kyouya took that as a victory, and gave his uncharacteristically direct response.

"Yes."

Yoshio's eyes widened noticeably. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Ootori's don't lie, Kyouya. Tell me the truth."

"It is the truth."

His face went blank, and at the familiar gesture Kyouya knew that his father was at a loss for what to think. It was a trait that they shared. Again, he waited, allowing his father time to asess his options and decide his opinion. More breathing, more soft, steady ticks of the large wall clock. 6:05. 6:10. 6:15. And then, finally, a voice. Quiet and uncertain.

"How long?"

That was a tricky question. Kyouya went with the safe answer. "Since Graduation. 3 years."

His father's eyes hardened. He had, evidently, made up his mind and he had chosen exaclty what Kyouya had anticipated.

"You will step down as heir. And you will use your savings to remove this article from the papers."

"No, I won't." Said Kyouya, matter-of-factly. A stare arose between the two, identical furrowed brows and hard eyes glaring deeply at one another. It was a quiet battle of wills, a stone wall beneath each face.

"Then I will do it for you, boy." Yoshio whispered spitefully, addressing him as he had when Kyouya was a child.

"No, you won't." Kyouya said, just as clam, just as confident. "Because I have this."

Kyouya pulled the envelope from his pocket and slowly opened the flap, retrieving its precious cargo. It was a newspaper, identical in every way to Yoshio's with the exception of the front page article.

"_**OOTORI FUYUMI'S 'I'M PREGNANT DECLARATION', AND THE TRUE STORY OF HER AFFAIR WITH A COMMONER!**_"

Perhaps for the first time since his childrens' birth, Ootori Yoshio gasped.

"You're ruthless." whispered Yoshio in awe.

"I'm an Ootori." replied Kyouya, with smiling eyes and a pitch black grin.

"And regrettably, Father, this is also true." Kyouya said darkly, casually flicking a sonogram image onto the Head of the Ootori's desk.

Without pause he continued,"So you can either allow your only daughter to disgrace herself as well as accept a half-blood bastard as your first grandchild or you can allow me a harmless, although embarrassing, affair with the powerful Suou Family. And I don't think I need to elaborate on the opportunities that a merge with the Suou's would create."

Ootori Yoshio sat at his desk, perched on his imposing desk chair in the luxurious office of one of the largest and grandest estates in Japan and marveled at how powerless he felt. At how much more in control his son looked, sitting proudly in the rickety, cushion-less guest chair on the other side of his desk.

Truthfully, Yoshio cared for his children. He wanted only the best for them, but his sway in their lives was always compromised by his position. From the beginning he'd had no choice but to choose between them, to pit them against each other, to see who could bear the weight of his name. He had accepted that a certain amount of resentment was unavoidable in a house of three flawless sons and one perfect daughter of which only one could receive the ultimate honor. But this? Something this drastic?

"You would use your own sister to achieve your ends, Kyouya?" Yoshio said, low and harsh.

Kyouya resisted the urge to point out the irony of his father calling him manipulative.

"I'm protecting her, Father. If I am the heir, I will need a son. Tamaki-kun cannot provide me that. Fuyumi can."

"Are you implying-"

"-I am. Tamaki-kun and I will adopt the child and it will be my heir. No one will know, but it will preserve the Ootori line despite my...preferences." Kyouya said, pausing at the end, unsure how best to describe his sexual persuasion while avoiding the "H" word. "The truth will be irrelevent until the child is of age to be named heir, at which time we can quietly leak the truth. If handled properly it will be no trouble at all."

Yoshio's face went blank once more, except his eyes which were alive with logic. He saw the full picture now, the grand masterpiece of his most talented son. The gears continued to turn, searching for a flaw, anywhere. He found none.

Uninterrupted, Yoshio soon caught himself going so far as to imagine the considerable increase in power that a union with the Suou would create. His initial anger was now gone and in its place his analytical side returned.

He had to concede that Kyouya had chosen his partner well, all things considered. The Suou Group was not only equal in size and prosperity to the Ootori, but they were also involved in many of the same industries, often in direct competition. In fact, a merge between the groups would create de facto monopolies in a number of fields. For the third time that morning, Ootori Yoshio was taken aback at his own son's ingenuity.

Through the windows behind his father's desk Kyouya could see the sun rising. It was a thrill of blue and orange and fuchsia, forcing it's way into the cold white and black of the office. The light draped itself across the austere room the way Tamaki often draped himself over Kyouya's desk. Bright, energetic, demanding attention. Beautiful. Waiting for his father to respond to his indirect proposition, Kyouya watched patiently as the light creeped up the side of the desk, crawling, slowly, deliberately into the heart of the room. He suddenly felt the urge to gaze out the window. Normally he would have ignored it, but today was special. He rose, and stood directly under the light, head back, taking in the warmth of the new day.

Yoshio watched his son quietly, careful not to halt his actions. This was a side of Kyouya that Yoshio had not seen in a long while. Since that fateful Ouran Festival where Kyouya had first shown his true colors, and coincidentally, the day that Yoshio had decided who his heir would be.

"Do the Suou's know about this?" He asked gently, although he already knew the answer because he knew Kyouya.

His eyes met his father's directly in an intense gaze."No." Even bathed in light, Kyouya's voice sounded as dark as hell."But they don't really have a choice in the matter."

Mentally, Yoshio prepared himself for still another scandalous news article. But instead heard Kyouya's calm, yet edgy voice continue to speak."They have no other heir and while that old hag enjoys twisting Tamaki's wrist, I don't honestly believe that she would throw away her life's work rather than pass on the name to Yuzuru-sama."

Although nothing was for certain, Yoshio silently agreed. He felt a touch of pride upon hearing the spite in his son's voice. It verified that all of this was not some grand scheme. He son genuinely cared for the Suou boy. The entire scenario was strange and new to him, yet in his own way he was entranced by the sincere, passionate young man that stood before him. When had his son, his introverted, merit-obsessed son become this?

Unaware of his father's musing, Kyouya continued. "And of course Yuzuru-sama has always given Tamaki whatever he wants, so why should this be any different?" The words were laced with an air of subdued jealously. Yoshio chose to ignore that.

With a deep sigh, he stood, wondering if he would come to regret this day. "Supposing that I allow this, and Suou-kun is named heir regardless, what would you do with such great potential?"

Kyouya took his time forming an answer. A million perfect lies flew through his brain, each one more tempting than the last. But he had decided the moment he put this plan into motion that he was through will lies and deceit. Plus, as his father had reminded him, Ootori's don't lie. Knowing he was vulnerable and still not fully trusting his father's new found support, Kyouya spoke more to the window than to Yoshio.

"I...will give Tamaki whatever he desires." A blush dusted his ears and neck and he adjusted his glasses to hide his embarrassment. "Please excuse me, Father. But, if you approve of this course of action, I need to contact Komatsuzawa-kun."

Yoshio schooled his face into an expression of detatched support. Standing he walked to the left hand window where his youngest son stood. At the age of 21, he was already 6 centimeters taller than his father with wide, imposing shoulders. Placing his hand firmly on Kyouya's shoulder in a rare gesture of paternal affection he nodded. "Make the call."

As Kyouya took his leave, he wondered sadly when his children had grown, where he had been when it happened, what they all had become while he wasn't looking. If Kyouya was any indication, he thought, he had little to worry about.

The phone rang, much to Akira Komatsuzawa's relief.

"Hello, Akira speaking."

"Ah, Komatsuzawa-kun, this is Kyouya."

"Oh, Ootori-kun, great. Which version are we printing?"

"Plan A. And thank you in advance for your involvement in this mess."

"Not at all! With a story like this, you've essentially guaranteed me my heirship."

"Now, now, let's not forget my own merit in this. Per our contract, I will await my 25% of the sales profits."

"Of course, of course! What do you take me for, Ootori-kun? Some kind of scam artist?"

A forced laugh.

A pregnant pause.

"Well thank you again for your help, perhaps there will be an opportunity for us to deal again in the future?"

"Yeah...Best of luck with your private affairs."

-click-

For the first time since the Host Club opened, Kyouya couldn't wait to go to school.

AN: Not really sure where this is going specifically, but I have an idea what I want it to be. Hope you're enjoying it. Anyone have anything they would like to see? I'm having trouble deciding how I want to introduce the other hosts and your suggestions might give me ideas.


	3. Chapter 1: Baby Mama

_**Title: Objects in Motion**_

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, HikaruxKaoru, Slight HaurhixKasanoda_

_Warnings: Three person parenting, an odd flavor of fluff, and next-to-no plot development. Some sexual content in Kyouya's dream, but other than that just good, clean fun._

_AN: I promise that next chapter we will get to see some of the other Host Club members, but for now I really felt the need to explore the way that the Ootori-Suou household would work as well as to fill in some gaps._

_I will also be doing some flashbacks and semi-one shots that take place during the series, once we get the current plot on a roll. So please stick with me!_

_Oh, and thank you for all of your kind reviews. =]_

.

_Kyouya was dreaming._

_He was everywhere and nowhere. It was the day he'd met Tamaki. The day he was born. It was an ordinary day at school. The day his mother disappeared. His mind swirled in a hazy memory soup never settling on a single time or place or coherent thought._

_He was with Haruhi in a commoner shopping mall. She was laughing and explaining some idiotic commoner food. Time skipped. They were at the mall entrance. "You know...you're surprisingly a nice person, Kyouya-sempai." "Kyouya! Look who I found at the pet store!"_

_Haruhi was falling. Tamaki was jumping. Kyouya couldn't watch. He knew Tamaki wouldn't have jumped for him._

_It was the dead of winter. All was quiet except the low whirring of the kotatsu heater. Tamaki was feeding him oranges. They weren't as sweet as they'd been last year. A cotton covered foot poked him in the stomach. Was that supposed to be cute? He had tunnel vision and all he saw was eyes. Deep, violet eyes filled with mischief and a question. A cry for reassurance. "I made sure they weren't ripe yet. I know you don't like oranges when they're sweet." A smile._

_He was nine. He was in his father's office. "What are you doing here, boy? You should still be in school." He could feel blood pulsing under fresh bruises. He tugged at his uniform sleeve and lied through his teeth._

_He was fifteen and Takeshi Kuze, the quarterback, towered over him, naked and powerful like some kind of infallible god. He smelled like oranges. "You want some more?". Kyouya cried out like a common whore and let his hands to the talking."You're such a slut, Ootori." _

_"I know you don't like oranges when they're sweet." _

_"What are you doing here, boy?"_

_He was falling. Falling into the endless sea and the convertible kept speeding across the bridge. He should have called out to Tamaki but all he could think was "Why am I wearing a dress?"_

_"You know...you're surprisingly a nice person, Kyouya-sempai."_

_They were playing Red Light, Green Light while the newspaper club watched. Tamaki's pinky was linked with his. His heart rate accelerated. They hadn't touched like that in weeks. Kyouya longed for the days before Haurhi, when Tamaki touched him all the time._

_He was in the 3rd Music Room, still in his field day jumpsuit, and Tamaki's hands were on his back, massaging him like the old days. Playing his vertebrae like a harp. Coaxing a breathy symphony from his weary lungs._

_"Just relax, Kyouya. I'm not going to leave you."_

_"Just tell me what you want."_

_"...what you want..."_

_"Just tell me..."_

"Just tell me what you want, Tamaki!", the Demon Lord that ruled over the mighty kingdom of Kyouya's bed called out. "Before I torture it out of you."

Tamaki held his ground, knowing the emptiness of the Shadow King's morning threats. Once upon a time he would have been petrified, but after 7 years of waking up along side Kyouya, Tamaki had long since gotten used it.

"Torture, huh? That's a new one, Mummy." Fearless, he dove under the covers and latched onto his partner of 6 years. "Did you spend last night thinking of it? Hmmmmm? Or perhaps you were thinking of me.", he whispered haughtily into Kyouya's ear, as though he fully believed it to be true. While they were long since out of high school, certain behaviors never seemed to die.

The presence of Tamaki's familiar form roused Kyouya's conscious mind into awareness and he felt his animosity subside somewhat. "What makes you think I'd dream about you, brat?", the he replied harshly.

Tamaki raised his ring finger in a clear sign of disrespect, as well as to showcase the flashy wedding band that resided there.

Kyouya stared...and rolled onto his other side.

"Come ON, Kyouya! You're going to miss Touya's first day of preschool! Can you even fathom the kind of psychological damage that could leave?"

"He's three years old, Tamaki. He won't even remember it."

"Even so, you have to come bear witness to our son's first historic steps into Ouran!" Tamaki said, dreamily.

"I'd much rather witness the closing of my eyelids." And he did just that and thought himself the victor of their usual morning argument until...

"Fine! I'll just get our _BABY MAMA_ to go with me."

In a flash, Kyouya was wide awake and pulling on a pair of slacks. He couldn't believe Tamaki had gone there.

It was an old piece of dirt that Tamaki had tucked away long ago, and that he continued to shamelessly abuse.

.

_It all began when Fuyumi's pregnant belly had begun to show and, in proper Ootori fashion, she'd bought all kinds of baby related literature to study and prepare herself with. Among them was a book she'd gotten as a freebie for spending more than $500 in one order. She'd examined it, puzzled by why any good book salesman would give a book away for free, before discarding it on the table.  
_

_It was a thin book with a red and white cover. The cover featured a happy-looking, well-endowed African American woman. It was entitled "A Home Girl's Guide to Baby Birthin". The missing "g" alone had been a topic of intense debate among friends and family for weeks. But by far the most resilient aspect of the book was hidden, lying in wait on the first page of Chapter 14: "Life as a Baby-Mama". Puzzled by the commoner slang, Tamaki had read the entire chapter with interest, commoner dictionary (Haruhi) in hand. Once he was finished he'd placed the book back on the table, turned to Fuyumi with great solemnity and proclaimed "Fuyumi-chan, I'm so sorry! I had no idea that this was all my fault! But Daddy promises! He promises he'll be the best Baby Daddy there ever was! He'll take care of his Baby Mama, unlike those commoner cretins!"_

_Kyouya had been mortified. He scolded Tamaki for using inappropriate language. He burned the horrid book that taught Tamaki such an uncouth phrase. He'd even forbidden Tamaki from Google-ing the phrase. But it was already too late._

_"But Kyouya, I'm just using the correct terminology! It said it in black in white 'A woman is a Baby Mama if she is raising a child while separate from the child's father. The term 'Baby Daddy' is a way of referring to the child's father without implying a romantic or matrimonial relationship. '"_

_"I don't care idiot, you can't run around telling the world that my sister got herself pregnant out of wedlock!"_

_And that had been the end of it...for a month or so. At the time, the phrase was still no more than a funny story. But soon, soon Tamaki would take it to a new level._

_It had happened when they were discussing baby names. Naturally, they'd requested to know the sex. Choosing two names, Kyouya had insisted, was a waste of time. But even so, that one perfect name evaded them. They'd poured over countless books and spent nearly a week in the parlor, calling out names as they came to mind. Finally Fuyumi lost patience and began systematically screening names for appropriateness. She'd made a straight forward list of criteria that even Kyouya found satisfactory._

_1. Must contain one character from one of their names. ("Family tradition", Tamaki elaborated.)_

_2. Must be connected with good memories._

_3. Must be two syllables. ("One syllable names sound silly after 'Ootori'." Fuyumi said.)_

_And therein lay the problem._

_"What's wrong with 3 syllable names?" Tamaki had asked defensively. "I think all three of my syllables sound very nice after Suou."_

_"What does it matter how it sounds after Suou?" Kyouya said off-hand.  
_

_"Because-"_

_Oh._

_Fuyumi had been the one to bravely state the problem everyone was trying to avoid. "At some point, we'll have to decide on a last name too." _

_Tamaki jumped in before he lost his chance. "Well...Suou-Ootori doesn't really sound very good...the 'ohs' run together too much."_

_"You just want Suou to be second." Kyouya accused, knowing where this was going._

_"Why do I want Suou to be second?"_

_"Because no Japanese would ever use two last names. So he'd just drop the Ootori because it came first." Kyouya replied defensively._

_"But! But...but..."Tamaki protested lamely, caught in the act._

_Fuyumi thought it best to stay out of this one.  
_

_"Then it's settled. It'll just be Ootori, since the Suou will get dropped anyway." Kyouya said sharply. He couldn't articulate it, but his surname was very important to him. He highly doubted that Tamaki valued his as much as Kyouya did.  
_

_Nevertheless, Tamaki was not backing down. He stood with a swollen sense of self-importance. Kyouya was expecting a long, guilt-wrenching monologue, instead he got something much worse._

_"__**BABY MAMA!**__", Tamaki said, almost like an accusation.  
_

_Kyouya's face was a priceless blend of fury and bewilderment._

_"If my name's not in there then I'm calling her Baby Mama!" Tamaki said petulantly, pointing proudly at Fuyumi, knowing already that he had won this argument. _

_Sighing, Kyouya wilted and returned to his seat, adding "Must sound good with both names." to the bottom of the short list._

_Over the rest of the evening they'd taken turns investigating names that used the syllables of each of their names. Tamaki's name yielded too many female names. Fuyumi's all had to do with winter, a season Tamaki disliked. They'd moved on to Kyouya. The first syllable was a dud. Anything having to do with glass and mirrors sounded too fragile. But the "ya" had stuck. Nighttime imagery had appealed to Tamaki and the implied sophistication had appealed to Kyouya. The final piece clicked when Tamaki had suggested "Touya"._

_"Touya! Touya is perfect! It works with both names and it's the place that we stayed when you took me to Hokkaido, Kyouya! And I know how much Fuyumi-chan loves peaches!"_

_Kyouya looked up from the baby name site he'd been browsing. "Hn...I'd prefer if we used the "transparent" character for the "tou" rather than the "peach", but I do like the sound of it."_

_Fuyumi had been delighted. "Suou Touya Ootori", she'd whispered to herself. She stood and paced the room, and she repeated it over and over. "Suou Touya...Ootori Touya...Touya Ootori-Suou...Touya." In a matter of minutes she was prancing about the parlor, hands caressing the bump in her stomach, giggling in delight. Kyouya had watched her with a relaxed grin slung carelessly on his face. It was relief to finally have a name, a back-up at the very least._

_Tamaki had joined his sister in her private parade. "Touya! Touya! Oh, Kyouya! It's also a contraction of our names! I didn't even realize until now!" Fuyumi returned to the couch and it struck her that she was crying. She blamed her maternity mood swings, but inwardly she knew it was something else. Looking up, she wiped her face clean and smiled at Kyouya, eyes twinkling. "What do you think, Nii-san?"_

_Kyouya breathed in deeply, rolling the name around on his tongue. He remembered the exhilarating look on Tamaki's face when they'd ice skated on Lake Touya. Relived the feeling of French lips brushing his for the first time in the brisk Hokkaido air, chapped but warm. He remembered his sister sneaking in to his room when they were children, offering him a midnight snack of summer peaches. He saw the glow of motherhood twinkling on Fuyumi's cheeks, the flush of excitement in Tamaki's eyes. He nodded with finality._

_"Touya is perfect."_

_.  
_

Kyouya focused himself as he tied his shoes. In the dressing room next to their bedroom he heard Tamaki chattering on his cell phone. "And so then I just said "Baby Mama" and he jumped right out of bed!" A pause, no doubt filled with his sister's laughter. "Yep, it still works!"

Kyouya grimaced at how easy he was to manipulate these days. Briefly, he worried that fatherhood had turned him soft. "Hurry up, King of Idiots, or I'm enrolling him as Touya _Ootori_."

The phone clattered to the floor, as did Tamaki. Wrinkling Kyouya's freshly pressed slacks he pulled his torso up by Kyouya's belt. "You wouldn't really do that to me would you, Mommy? Daddy wants to be a part of Touya-kun's life! Even if it is just a name!"

Ignoring him as best as one could ignore a belt-attached parasite, Kyouya retrieved Tamaki's cell phone from the floor and addressed his sister.

"We'll be going now, Nee-san, will you be joining us at Ouran?"

"Oh no, Kyouya-san, I'm sorry but I just don't want Touya-kun to feel weird. Having two daddies is unusual, but having three adults come to drop of one child would just look too strange. Perhaps, if you'll agree to it, I"ll just pick him up from school?"

Kyouya felt a stab of guilt at that. It was true that when he'd set up this odd, decidedly triangular family unit he hadn't given much thought to the child itself. He'd been younger then, and he certainly hadn't spent much time with kids. As a baby it had been easy enough. However, now that Touya was entering the social circle Kyouya was beginning to fear that his son would pay the price for his lack of foresight. And unlike most other problems, there was no way to play the system when it came to social protocol. Perhaps he should have let Fuyumi and Tamaki handle this after all?

Tamaki had given up on getting Kyouya's attention at this point. Instead he busied himself with fixing his hair and flirting with his reflection in the mirror.

"Nii-san? Is everything alright?"

"I just..." Lies filled his head just as easily as they had years ago. The child in him would always fear the vulnerability of the truth. But Kyouya meticulously punctured each temptation, as he had done persistently for the last 3 years. At length, he settled on a vague half-truth. "I'm just getting cold feet."

His sister's voice returned from the other end, steady and sure. "They'll all find out eventually, and that's only if they don't know already. If you tell the truth from the beginning then there's no reason to fear being discovered later."

Kyouya breathed deeply and his inner machinations slowed back to normal speed. Fuyumi always knew just what to say. "Thank you, Fuyumi."

"Anytime...**_Baby Daddy_**. -click-"


	4. Chapter 2: Obnoxious

_**Title: Objects in Motion**_

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, HikaruxKaoru, Slight HaurhixKasanoda_

_Warnings: Unadulterated fluff._

_AN: Not much plot progression in this chapter either, but it sets the framework for the next several, where a lot of shit is going down. Nevertheless, it gives us some more shameless fluff and a few of those interesting perceptions of Haruhi's. Hope you enjoy it!_

_._

The Ootori-Suou limo arrived at the gates of Ouran to great fanfare. Kyouya and Tamaki thought nothing of it, but Haruhi was acutely aware that the first day of Ouran's school session was a ridiculously more extravagant affair than it really should have been.

She, of course, was there on business. Since graduating from law school last year, Kyouya had kept her busy running legal errands for him and Tamaki and occasionally Tamaki's father. While it was far from the type of law that she wanted to practice, Kyouya paid her ridiculously well and her college bills had called to her too much for her to decline. Plus it almost didn't feel like she was even working half the time, sitting in her sempais' house and chatting away over instant coffee and cease-and-desist orders. And additionally, being known as the exclusive lawyer preferred by Kyouya Ootori and half of the Suou Group had created many more career opportunities than any title alone should.

There was, however, one aspect of her job that Haruhi despised and, regrettably, the reason for her awkward return to her elite high school was one and the same as that. She was meeting with Suou-sama to continue working through the Suou Family Trust, and the (unwilling) Last Will of Tamaki's grandmother. If possible, the woman was even more unpleasant one-on-one than she had been in the Host Club during Haruhi's first Ouran Festival. She belligerently resisted at every point in the process of writing her final testament. Privately, Haruhi thought that she simply didn't believe that she was actually going to die. And some days, Haruhi almost believed that a woman like Tamaki's grandmother _could_ have continued living forever out of sheer spite for the living, remaining alive because she was simply too stubborn to die.

Today's meeting was just with Yuzuru-sama, thankfully, but that in itself was also a draw back. Yuzuru didn't seem to realize that her position as lawyer required her to keep a certain amount of neutrality. Their private meetings always consisted of Yuzura-sama discussing the many clauses he was hoping to sneak in while he mother wasn't looking. Even at the age of 45, Yuzuru's social skills most closely resembled his grandson, Touya's. Given that he was related to Tamaki, Haruhi didn't know why it surprised her.

As they exited the vehicle, a man in a black suit walked forward. "Welcome to Ouran Mr. Ootori, Mr. Suou. The enrollment area is this way." He motioned for a large, ornate brass gateway beyond which lay a lush garden buzzing with activity. Kyouya inspected the attendees with interest. There we quite a few familiar faces, although some he knew only from photographs. But much more to Kyouya's liking were the unknowns. There was one benefit to the timing of Fuyumi's pregnancy, and that was that most of his generation had not yet graduated college, himself and Tamaki included. Thus, the families surrounding him were mostly people he had not yet done business with. Mentally, Kyouya prepared himself for a future full of boring, but highly lucrative dinner parties.

Tamaki took in the impractical extravagance of Touya's first day of preschool with great satisfaction. Ouran always put on an excellent display for the new arrivals. Waiters wandered the garden serving wine an hor-d'eurves. Fans and misters were dispersed throughout the garden to provide relief from the late summer heat, and a complete orchestra was set up at the back playing romantic melodies to enhance the atmosphere. It was all very impressive.

But of course, that was the point. Anyone with half a brain could tell that at this stage, Ouran's administration was looking to impress parents much more than students. After all, it was the parents that chose to enroll them, and their parents whose money paid for every aspect of the school's budget. The nurseries of the preschool looked as though they were built to house royalty. Haruhi had to constantly remind herself that this was actually a good thing, since many of Ouran's most devout supporters _were, _in fact, descended from royalty. But gourmet food formulated for toddlers? How much more pretentious could they get?

Regardless, Haruhi just followed quietly along, knowing that she'd never find Yuzuru-sama in this mess without Tamaki's help. He had a knack for tracking down the elusive Superintendent of Ouran Academy.

They walked under the large glittering gate for Ouran's Elementary Preparatory Institution, being greeted and fawned over by dozens of smiling, well dressed caretakers. Could they really care for a bunch of three-year-olds dressed like that? And was there really that much need to prepare children for _elementary school?_

Kyouya stopped some distance away to address a business associate. As Tamaki and Haruhi waited for him to finish the exchange, one of the caretakers, a tall, black haired woman approached them. Her straight, black hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and she had a very nice smile. "Welcome, Ootori-sama. Suou-sama", She nodded at each of them in turn. "And who might this be?" she asked turning to Haruhi. "Is she your Nanny, come to see little Touya off?" Haruhi froze, having forgotten the kind of treatment that non-designer clothing earned you at Ouran.

Kyouya adjusted his glasses smiling just a bit too smugly. "You could say that. Legally speaking, she's been caring for Touya-kun's future for several months now.", he said diplomatically. Touya himself fidgeted in Tamaki's arms. He never seemed to like it when adults talked about him, always growing fussy and doing his best to make Tamaki put him down.

The woman's attention shifted to Touya. "And this must be Touya-kun!" she said in the overly happy tone that people reserved for small children. "Ootori-sama didn't warn me how cute you were, Touya-kun!" Haruhi conceded that, in this case, it wasn't just flattery.

Even at three years old, you couldn't deny the resemblance he held to his parents, both biological and otherwise. He was gangly despite how Tamaki over-fed him and he had the characteristic Ootori features; pale skin, high cheekbones, and midnight black hair, thick like Fuyumi's. Despite Kyouya's constant preening and lectures about good grooming, his hair always stuck up stubbornly at odd angles. His eyes, however, were a spectacle. Haruhi had never dared ask, but she could only assume that the real father had been a foreigner, because peeking confidently out from behind Touya's tiny childrens glasses were the most brilliant blue eyes she'd ever seen.

While his looks screamed Ootori, his demeanor was all Suou. He looked up at the caretaker and with very un-childlike mannerisms said,"Daddy says that Mommy sometimes forgets to appreciate beauty." Then, with a practiced pout and a lower angled look for effect, "Please don't think badly of Mommy." Haruhi thought she saw tears.

Kyouya's glasses glinted and Haruhi knew, if only from experience, that he was hiding his eyes. Probably from embarassment. He glared at his husband with animosity. "Tamaki..." But Tamaki was preoccupied. "HA! Did you hear that, mon cheri? He's already so articulate, just like his Papa!" Tamaki spun him around at arm's length, laughing loudly.

All eyes in the courtyard landed on them. Evidently, they hadn't put two and two together until the word "Papa" flew carelessly out of Tamaki's mouth as he played with a very, very Ootori looking baby. Anger boiled up in Kyouya's stomach, but he pushed it back, reminding himself of Fuyumi's words earlier that day. _They'll all find out eventually. It's better to tackle this now._

Ignoring the stares like a professional host, he stepped forward and plucked Touya from Tamaki's spinning death grip and shifted the weight to his hip. Touya's hands immediately flew to Kyouya's face and batted at his cheeks, a habit he'd had since birth. "Mommy, Daddy's being silly again.", he said. The stares intensified, waiting with bated breath for confirmation.

"That's right, Touya-kun. And what do we call people who are silly in public?"

"Obnoxious!"

Tamaki went limp. "Why must you be so mean to Daddy?", he whined pathetically.

Several wives cooed and giggled with their nannies, admiring Touya's wit and gushing about his "adorable" little glasses. Kyouya blocked out any mention of the word "Mommy". Many members of the crowd were notably less approving of the display. Kyouya did his best not glare at them. Satisfied with the information they'd gleaned, the crowd returned to their own business.

The black haired caretaker smiled and politely ignored the awkward nickname that her employer apparently answered to. "Ah, perhaps we should continue, sir?" Kyouya nodded and addressed her once more.

"As we discussed, Ms. Hiwatari, please be cautious of Touya-kun. As you can see, he's quite aware of the effect his has on people." '_A chip off the evil block_' thought Haruhi ironically.

"Wait..." Haruhi said, thinking out loud. "How did you know her name? She didn't introduce herself..."

"What, you thought I'd leave my son with just anyone?" He shot her one of his classic 'Are you stupid?' looks. "At the lower sections of Ouran parents are encouraged to freely select a private tutor that is to their liking. Since, obviously, each child requires close personal attention to prepare them for the academic challenges of elementary school. Not to mention that early development is the optimum time to remove any behavioral problems and to begin to compensate for the child's weaknesses."

"Are we still talking about three-year-olds, sempai?" Haruhi asked, more to herself than to Kyouya.

"Naturally. At three years of age a child's personality is already becoming solidified. It makes no sense to delay socialization when progress can be made much faster at an earlier age. In my case, the focus of my early education was in social protocol, since I had trouble handling myself in front of others." he said, as though reading from a textbook rather than recounting personal memories from childhood.

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"Most of the other children were frightened of me." He said simply. "Probably because I considered them inferior."

"I hate to tell you, sempai, but I don't think you've changed all that much."

Kyouya turned to address both Haruhi and Ms. Hiwatari once more_._ "Anyway, Touya-kun's greatest weakness is quite simply the fact that he is already an extremely accomplished manipulator. He's accustomed to getting whatever he wants, so I thought that it might be good for him to have to deal with someone very strict and unforgiving like you, Ms. Hiwatari. So please do your worst." Only Kyouya could make that sound like a compliment, Haruhi mused. She also decided not to voice her observation that this was probably the same sort of thing that Kyouya's father said about him when Kyouya was in school.

"So basically, you're saying he' s spoiled.", Haruhi said bluntly.

"Rotten." Kyouya confirmed, looking pointedly at Tamaki.

During her time at Ouran she'd grown accustomed to seeing her friend's parents as the enemy. And in some situations, like at the 43rd Ouran Festival, she'd even grown deeply resentful of the pressure they put on their own children, the way they imposed their will on her friend's young lives was extremely harmful. But from her place behind Kyouya-sempai and Tamaki-sempai, she thought she could understand why they'd done it a bit more.

Ootori-sama had probably known when he was standing in this same courtyard what kind of pressure Kyouya was going to face, the ways he would be expected to act in from of others. And while she doubted Suou-sama had thought much about Tamaki's future, she was certain that his upbringing in France, far away from his grandmother, hadn't been an arbitrary decision. She still thought it was all very silly, the way rich people lived their lives. Yet after every day she spent in their nonsensical world she felt like she was beginning to understand them more and more.

"Respectfully, Ootori-sama, Suou-sama, we're running a bit late and Touya-kun needs to receive his vaccinations. Would you like to complete the enrollment paperwork at this time?"

Haruhi looked deeper into the courtyard and saw a long, familiar line of private physicians waiting patiently in a nearby pavilion.

"Yes, that will be fine." said Kyouya.

"Shall we, Touya-kun?" Hiwatari asked with a gentle smile. Touya took her hand and they began walking towards the pavilion. With a thump she heard Tamaki slide to the ground, gazing with longing at his son and the tutor. Quiet tears streamed down his face effusively. "Tou...ya...My baby's all grown up and leaving Daddy behind!" Haruhi had little patience for his drama. How late was he going to make her for her appointment with Suou-sama?

She felt more than she saw the classic puppy eyes click into place. She knew instinctively that Tamaki was staring at her and Kyouya with maximum intensity. "Hey Kyouya...can I play Ranka-san's stalking game? Would that be weird?" Kyouya looked down, and Haruhi was willing to bet that he had no idea how happy he looked when he gave Tamaki his look of fond exasperation. "Yes, Tamaki, that would be very inappropriate."

As much as he would have liked to clock Tamaki on the head and proclaim him an idiot like he used to, inwardly Kyouya knew that, at least on some level, Tamaki was serious. Because in reality, everything Tamaki said was intended to be both a joke and a serious statement all at once. He'd theorized once with Kaoru, who had been the one to originally make the observation, that it must have been a defense mechanism to ensure that his words were well received regardless of the tastes of the listener. He'd been skeptical at first, but time had proven Kaoru's statement mostly true.

As a result, Kyouya knew better than to repeat the actions he's done in middle school. Because his current self knew that when Tamaki spoke like that he was really looking for reassurance. He asked if he could go with Touya but what he really wanted was for someone to hold him back, to tell him that it was in Touya's best interest. Because in his mind, Tamaki himself already knew that, but his heart would always have trouble believing his brain.

Gently he placed his right hand on Tamaki's head, running his fingers down soft blond locks until they reached the nape of his neck and glided to his shoulder, where they squeezed comfortingly. "Come on, Tamaki. We'll see him this afternoon when he gets home. We have a meeting with the Superintendent, remember?"

Tamaki gripped the hand on his shoulder and looked up at Kyouya with a somber smile. "Yeah, right...a meeting with Father." He stood, moving to hold Kyouya's hand properly, swinging their arms slightly as he spoke. His eyelids fell in a very Host-like look of contented gratitude. "Ready when you are, mon ami."

He blinked slowly and looked off toward the Administration building in the distance. "Well then, we had better be on our way. Haruhi?"

Haruhi jerked to attention. She'd been occupied considering whether the complimentary fruit was domestic or imported. "R-Right! Off we go..."

_'I can tell this is gonna be a long day...and we haven't even started the meeting yet!'_


	5. Chapter 3: The Gamble

_**Title: Objects in Motion**_

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, HikaruxKaoru, Slight HaurhixKasanoda_

_Warnings: none._

_This chapter marks the entrance of the Haruhi and the twins. I've never written them before, so I hope that I'm able to capture them to satisfactory levels. Haha._

_.  
_

After several minutes of walking through the nostalgic halls of Ouran's inner grounds, they reached the north building, in the center of which resided the administrative offices. In front of the building, in the central courtyard, a temporary pavilion had been built and inside was a hum of activity. As they drew closer, a teacher they recognized from their time at Ouran approached and greeted them warmly. His name was Nagata-sensei and he was small bespectacled man with a large, friendly smile that had taught all three of them European History.

"Hello there! What brings three of the famous Host Club alumni back to Ouran? Here to check in on your successors, perhaps?"

Clearly, he meant the current members of the school Host Club who had replaced the founders upon their graduation.

"In a manner of speaking." Kyouya said cryptically.

"Our son is attending Ouran starting today." Tamaki supplied to clarify.

Nagata attempted to hide his surprise, but he was not a very composed man and it was evident to all three that he was unfamiliar with the situation. His attempt to cover his ignorance only served to worsen his situation. Quickly he stepped forward, grabbing Tamaki and Haruhi, giving them a simultaneous hug. Pulling back he grabbed Tamaki's hand and gave it a forceful shake.

"I'm so happy for you two! You know, we all thought you two were definitely a good couple."

As he babbled anxiously he continued to shake Tamaki's hand vigorously, despite Tamaki's attempts to squirm out of his death grip. Haruhi stood in stunned silence. "Although, knowing the Superintendent, I'm surprised that I didn't hear about your marriage! It must have been a lovely ceremony!"

At this point, Kyouya deemed the humor of the situation stale and intervened. "It was. Haruhi performed her duties as Maid of Honor perfectly, despite the Hitachiin's best efforts. Tamaki's vows to me were such that even my father was touched." At the end Kyouya's smile turned just a bit evil.

Nagata-sensei was at a loss.

"Ah, that's...very...nice, Ootori-san."

Haruhi seemed to come to her senses and she immediately shot Kyouya a stern look. She was no longer surprised by his idea of a joke, but neither was she impressed. It was far from the first time Tamaki and Kyouya had had this conversation, and Haruhi had no doubt that the usual response quickly became repetitive and irritating. But that was no reason to take it out on their old teacher, especially one who had always been very accommodating to the demanding schedule that the Hosts had to work around. Kyouya seemed as unfluttered by her glare as he had been in high school.

Tamaki on the other hand had blushed bright red and seemed incapable of speech. He hated it when Kyouya put things so directly. But with Kyouya, no merit meant no sympathy.

As for Kyouya himself, he was prepared to end the conversation and get along with the purpose of their visit. There had been more than enough interruptions already.

"Nice to see you again, Sensei! I hope this year goes smoothly for you." Kyouya said with his trademark smile.

"Y-Yeah, and you as well."

Kyouya walked into the pavilion with an unusually quiet Tamaki and an irritated Haruhi in tow. He ignored the many happy voices offering him help, making a beeline for the main table at the back. Hands in his pockets, shoulders back in a pose of practiced superiority he spoke to the nearest available attendant.

"I'm enrolling Suou-Ootori Touya-kun in pre-school. Please provide me the paperwork." The woman behind the table looked flustered and a bit scared. "Yessir!"

Hastily, she pulled a file from the full-sized bookcase behind her. Flipping it open and fingering through the small series of sheets and files she drew several check marks on a blank enrollment form in front of her.

Across the lawn, Haruhi was pursuing a very different mission.

"Tamaki-sempai...would you focus? I know you get antsy when Kyouya-sempai's in a bad mood, but we really need to find your dad."

"I'm trying. I'm trying, Haruhi-chan!"

And he really was trying; briskly walking around the area with Haruhi following closely behind, occasionally shooting glances back at the pavilion, as if expecting a fiery explosion. "But you never know when he gets like that. He could kill someone, Haruhi!"

"Control you imagination, Tamaki-sempai! I could lose my job if I'm any later!"

In the middle of their search, Haruhi's cell phone rang. With a roll of the eyes she checked the screen. It was Ritsu Kasanoda, the future head of the Kasanoda gang and one of the few people Haruhi met at Ouran who wasn't a pompous pain in the ass. She answered the call with a smile in her voice.

"Hello, Ritsu-kun." Tamaki's ears perked up and his entire head pivoted to her. _RITSU-KUN?_

When did _Casanova_ become "_Ritsu-kun"_?

"Ah...well, I have a meeting with Superintendent Suou again."

A pause.

"No, this one should be short. I'd love to come over for dinner tonight."

_DINNER? At the Kasanoda-gumi?_ Tamaki nearly fell over in distress. Even after him and Haruhi's disastrous not-quite-a-relationship in high school, Tamaki had continued to consider himself Haruhi's personal bodyguard.

"Alright, I'll call when I leave Ouran. Bye."

She pulled the phone down from her ear and pressed several buttons, a sequence of beeps and tones echoing across the school grounds. She navigated the various menus, going about setting an alarm for 6 pm. She knew very well the Suou family's tendency to keep her beyond her allotted time.

She looked up to find a nearly soulless Tamaki, eyes blank and glassy, completely immersed in an unpleasant fantasy.

"Tamaki-sempai..." Haruhi's legendary patience was beginning to run low. "Tamaki-sempai!"

Thankfully, at this point, Kyouya exited the pavilion and directed his path towards his lifeless spouse.

"Tamaki. Get Haruhi to the Superintendent. I'm going to work." Tamaki still refused to move. Kyouya gave him a harsh kick to the leg as he walked back toward the gate and Tamaki shrieked in pain. "Kaa-san..." he whined pathetically.

"Not my Kaa-san." Haruhi sighed.

.

Half an hour later, Tamaki's father had been located and the three of them had retired to the Superintendent's office.

By the standards of the Ouran population, the Superintendent's office was very austere. It was a square room with only a desk, a small sitting area, and a side table that housed awards and certificates granted to the school from all manor of educational authorities.

The couch to the right of the door was the same as those that adorned the many ballrooms and salons of the rest of the school, gold plated and ornately carved with plush, red velvet cusions. Above the couch hung a gold framed original drawing of the school's blueprints. Six foot trophies from World Championships of chess and debate and many other activities adorned the space on either side of the couch. In front of the couch sat a low coffee table, across from which were two matching chairs.

On the opposite side of the room, in front of a large, many-paned window was the desk. It was enormous, made of solid oak, with a dozen or so solid brass plates with the names of past superintendents engraved on them. It came as no surprise to Haruhi that most of the names began with "Suou".

The desk itself might better be described as a landfill. Disorganized little mounds of vaguely sorted documents littered the face with empty space only directly in front of the red leather desk chair. The superintendent sat in the chair, promptly placing his elbows in the empty space and lacing his fingers together, hovering his hands in front of his face.

"So, Haruhi-san, what brings you and my useless son to Ouran this morning?"

Tamaki crumpled.

"You asked me to meet with you today, Suou-sama."

As though remembering some obscure holiday, his demeanor immediately skyrocketed.

"Oh that's right, that's right! I have important news to tell you."

"Yes, sir?"

"Well there's a small problem with the will. It seems that Mother has changed the phrasing again and she's refused make any more editions. This is the last version she will willing enter into and she is refusing to sign it until we do."

"What is the change in phrase, sir?"

"It states that at the time of her death, if a Suoh is not the controlling body of a company under our family's conglomerate that that company will cease to be the property of the Suou Group and will instead be auctioned off to the highest bidder. The money raised will be given to the Suou Charity Trust to be distributed to various philanthropic causes."

"And 'controlling body' in this case represents?"

"A 50% majority of the stock is owned."

Tamaki cut in abruptly, "How...? Even our family couldn't hold that much money in liability at once!"

Haruhi quietly contemplated the feat Tamaki now had before him. Fifty percent of the stock meant that it was impossible for anyone but the Suou to control the Board of Directors, and she remembered from her Legal History class that that was they way all zaibatsu* ran their businesses prior to the Second World War. But due to the way the zaibatsu system tended to create monopolies, the government had attempted to put a stop to the practice during the post-war occupation. She supposed that it was only natural for a woman like Tamaki's grandmother, who lived through her country's attempt to put an end to her livelihood, would probably want to restore the old ways.

Did her and Yuzuru-sama's harsh treatment of Tamaki really all go back to something so simple? This whole time, they had really only wanted Tamaki to be less progressive and more focused on the family goal? And it appeared that no one involved had ever bothered to tell Tamaki-sempai.

So it came to this.

_'Fucking rich people. This is so messed up.' _Haruhi thought.

Nevertheless, this was now her concern because the only reason she was doing this just was because Kyouya had put his faith in her abilities. Kyouya had understood that there was little he could do to ensure Tamaki's success, and so he had simply created more favorable circumstances. Unfortunately for Haruhi, Kyouya's idea of a "favorable circumstances" had been to bait _her_ into taking the case. Kyouya definitely was not above blackmailing his friends, regardless of what some people might say.

'Suou-sama, if I might interrupt, do you have a list of the companies that Suou Group owns? And each of their net worth?"

"Mother sent one to clarify the implications of the new clause." He picked up a packet from a stack to his right and handed it to Haruhi for closer examination.

The list was astonishing. Everything from insurance companies to hotels and schools, shampoo manufacturing to stocks and bonds. Haruhi even spotted a few non-profit firms including the one responsible for her scholarship to Ouran.

"At this point in time, I've placed most of our family's unused capital into investing start-ups, but I would have to drop most of those projects in order to restore a majority holding in our established properties. Most of our companies have been under our control long enough that we don't need a full 50% to maintain control. About 90% of the companies on that list are controlled using only 20% to 40% of the stock, since no other entity controls more than 10%."

"I see.." said Haruhi. From her limited experience in business law, she knew that this was a very common practice for investors like Suou-sama.

Tamaki himself still seemed unsure of things.

"But...as the current head, wouldn't that mean that you would lose the companies too, Superintendent?"

Yuzuru sighed, "Call me Dad, Tamaki. That was just a practical joke to begin with." he said with exasperation.

Swirls of discontent made their way across Tamaki's face as the tension in the room ebbed, giving way to uncertainty. "But still, doesn't that mean that you would lose power as well, Dad?"

"Yes, it does. And I intend to help you for that reason. But it will require a lot of sacrifice to pull this off. I'm talking about billions of dollars in stock, and we must obtain it before your grandmother dies. She is already 87 years old, Tamaki."

"Well, if Suou-sama refuses to sign a will then the assets will be evenly distributed to her survivors, including her maiden family. So if that happens, each of you might only receive a handful of these companies. Not to mention that your ability to choose which companies could be easily compromised." Haruhi advised.

"So we at least have to try." Tamaki uttered quietly. It seemed to have donned on him how inevitable his grandmother's final challenge was. It was so drastic and he really wondered if it was even worth it.

It was true that Tamaki had never been completely sold on the idea of inheriting. He believed with earnest that his lucky stars combined with his natural charm and beauty would grant him whatever he wished for, regardless of inheritance. However, six years beside Kyouya had shown him first hand how much easier things tended to be when you owned half of the country. In addition, while he knew Kyouya's love for him was unconditional, he also knew how much Kyouya valued ambition and how much he wanted Tamaki to succeed in his own right. And, he thought fondly, there probably wasn't much Kyouya would rather receive for Christmas than the Suou empire at his fingertips. Kyouya _was_ Kyouya, after all.

"Alright, Dad, I'm willing to take the gamble if you are." Tamaki said, eyes steely, voice deep and determined.

And so, with Haruhi as their witness, Tamaki and Yuzuru signed. The long anticipated game of Tamaki's inheritance began.

.

Exiting the office, Haruhi looked contentedly into the vast, cloudless sky. Ouran was prettiest in the spring, but Haruhi herself was very fond of the fall, when students were more interested in Halloween parties than cherry-blossom romance.

The meeting had been very short, due to the sudden steps taken by Tamaki's grandmother. For a moment, she wondered what she was going to do until six o'clock.

But there are times when fate decides to give you a glance at your inevitable future, and in that moment, for the first time since her graduation, she saw the inevitable Hitachiin twins turn the corner directly in front of her. Horrified, Haruhi knew instantly what she would be doing until six o'clock.

But her realization did not stop her from attempting escape. She dodged behind the nearest pillar as fast as lightning. Was today some kind of unwelcome Host Club reunion? Was this secretly some plot of Tamaki's to get them back together? The Host Club held annual get-togethers during the holidays, and she always received 5 extravagant gift baskets on each of her birthdays, but rarely did the entire group actually meet face to face. And she herself had been so busy with school that she had forgone almost all of them.

Unfortunately, just as she suspected, her efforts to escape her destiny were a wasted effort.

"Oi! Haruhi!" the two identical twins said in tandem as they glided directly behind her. Her once protective column now trapped her as she whipped around to face them.

"Hi guys." she said in resignation to whatever ridiculous shenanigans were going to happen soon. "What brings you back to Ouran?"

Hikaru chose to answer, always more impulsive than Kaoru.

"Host Club costumes. Shiro-kun and Satoshi-kun have zero imagination."

Hikaru stood a few inches taller than Haruhi remembered, but that might have been his shoes. He wore somewhat casual clothes, with bright colors and a sporty feel to them. She noticed that every piece had the Hitachiin name on it. Next to him stood Kaoru, looking quite different than before. His hair was still dyed darker than Hikaru's, but his clothing was the most different. His style was much more sophisticated than Hikaru's, consisting of muted tones. He wore real leather ankle boots and several pieces of solid platinum jewelery to compliment his expensive looking blazer. Haruhi didn't remember him being that into flashy accessories, usually acting as the voice of withdrawn taste between the two brothers.

Kaoru continued where his brother left off. "We've been making lots of spending money from designing cosplay for them."

"We felt it was our duty to keep the standards of our great Lord's dream alive, even after he's abandoned it to go live with his _new_ family." The twins said in unison, feigning contempt.

"Oh." Haruhi replied. Silently, she wondered what small fortune quantified "spending money" to the twins. "I honestly hadn't given much thought to the future of the Host Club." she said honestly.

"It's been a bit rough." Kaoru informed. Hikaru was quick to join in "After we left, Shiro-kun took over. Remember him? He was the elementary school kid that Tono took as an apprentice."

Haruhi nodded.

Hikaru continued his explanation," He was sad to see the Host Club failing in our absence, so he joined once he was in high school and launched a huge 'Restoration Campaign'. "

Kaoru continued the story, "He says it was the least he could do to repay his debt to the Host Club."

They finished in unison. "He completely re-casted the club based on the original line-up Tono created. Princely, Cool, Wild, Loli-Shota, Little Devil, and Natural. 'Perfection can't be topped' as they say~!"

In spite of herself, Haruhi felt a bit reassured to hear that Shiro-kun had turned it around. "I see...well even though the club was a pain back then, I'm glad to hear that the Host Club is still around to remind people to have fun and be true to themselves."

"We just love recounting our daring exploits in commoner culture!" Hikaru and Kaoru exclaimed, striking one of their classic, symmetrical poses.

Haruhi rolled her eyes. Even with their mismatched hair and contrasting clothes, the Hitachiins still looked and acted, for all intensive purposes, like the "Little Devils" of the Ouran High School Host Club.

"Ne, Haruhi~!" Hikaru called out in a taunting tone.

"Come back to our studio with us~!" Kaoru cajoled in the same voice.

"We miss playing dress-up with you!" They finished in simultaneous grandeur.

Before she could refuse, two firm hands came to her lower back and pushed. Knocked off balance, she was easily driven forward by 2 identical, strong grips on her shoulders, which pulled her through the front gates and toward a white limo with platinum wheels.

It was the signature Hitachiin abduction. Haruhi fell for it every time.

_'Fucking rich people.'_

* Zaibatsu is a term that describes a business model used in Japan. In a "zaibatsu" company the highest level of management is a single person or Board of Directors. By preventing non-owners to hold high power positions in the company, the owners ensure that the company will remain in their control at all times. Basically all of the families in Ouran are parodies of traditional zaibatsu families. Even the classes in Ouran imply this, since there are 3 classes in each year. Class A is all 1st generation zaibatsu whose lines go back prior to WWI. Class 2 is all second wave zaibatsu whose families formed just prior to WWII. Class 3 is the class for the newly rich "keiretsu" companies.

I find zaibatsu to be a very very interesting cultural phenomenon and I recommend that anyone seeking to better understand the world of Ouran should at least read the wikipedia article: h tt /wiki/Za ibatsu


	6. Interlude: Truth in Music

_**Title: Objects in Motion**_

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, a pinch of twincest for flavor._

_This is the first of several interludes which detail events that occur before the story, and there will be one slipped in between every couple of chapters.. Some will be very relevant to the current plot lines, others will just be background information or character development. All of these scenes are ones that I find interesting and important to the progression of the characters and relationships into the way that they exist in the current events of this fanfiction. I hope that you enjoy them even though they do no progress the plot very much. =]  
_

.

It was 11 AM on a Sunday morning and Tamaki had come to visit the Ootori estate and spend the day with Kyouya before they returned to Ouran University the next day. Kyouya had been as cranky as usual and had run him out of his bedroom in fear of his life.

So, to pass the time until Kyouya decided to join the world of the living, he strolled aimlessly through the many long halls of the house. Looking up Tamaki saw that he had walked himself into the parlor. The parlor was a large, empty room with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side with doors opening out onto a patio, overlooking the grounds. The other three walls were lined with long, stiff couches and a few coffee tables. The centerpiece of the room was the grand piano that sat before the windows.

Tamaki had been to Kyouya's house a lot over the years, but it had been a month or so since he last played that piano. Usually Kyouya insisted that they spend time in Tamaki's more private mansion, to avoid suspicion. But it had been a while and Tamaki saw no harm in making himself at home, especially since his _wonderful_ boyfriend refused to get out of bed.

Pulling out the bench, he gently removed the dust that had accumulated on it in his absence. It had taken a lot of pleading to get the maids to stop cleaning it. It had puzzled them and was surely a topic of discussion among the staff, but he liked it that way. Tamaki liked to see the passage of time, liked to be able to see the effect his absence had and monitor how long he'd been gone.

Once the piano was clean, he lifted the cover to reveal the keys, perfectly preserved beneath the wood casing. He plucked lightly at a few notes, wondering what he should play, when he felt a heavy presence behind him.

Looking back at the doorway he saw none other than Ootori Yoshio. At first he was caught off guard to see him home and out of his office. Tamaki spun around on the bench to stand when Yoshio lifted a hand in a gesture of dismissal. Even with his fragmented etiquette training he felt uncomfortable, having been denied the chance to give the head of household a proper greeting. Knowing Kyouya's family, that was probably the reason he been forbidden to give one. But even as he settled back into his seat he still called out. "Good Morning, Ootori-sama. What a pleasant surprise to see you here!"

Yoshio didn't say anything at first, but after a pause replied, "A surprise to see me in my own home, Suou-kun?" with a wry sarcastic tone, no trace of humor reaching his face.

He searched quickly for a correction to his mistake as Yoshio smirked. Tamaki hated that about Kyouya's family. "Ootori wit" Kyouya had called it, the secret and demeaning variety of humor unique to their family. Tamaki had yet to beat it and doubted he would ever really see the humor of it. But knowing that it was Ootori-sama's idea of a joke, he laughed awkwardly at his own expense.

This gave him time to regain his natural charisma and respond, "Not at all sir! I mean in the parlor. Kyouya-san has mentioned that you don't care much for music."

Yoshio saw through his lie easily, but gave Suou credit for the attempt. The part about his distaste for music had been a gamble, but it was more or less true so he gave no complaint.

"And where is Kyouya?"

"Sleeping, sir. I gather he had a late night, but he's not too talkative at the moment, so I don't really know why." Having secured the floor, Tamaki decided to return to more familiar ground. "But then again, it is only natural that a brilliant man like him be kept up at night by his own genius! Please don't scold him for his behavior, because I know that all he hopes for in life is to live up to your perfect example!" Tamaki flattered shamelessly, spinning about the empty space of the room, and making grand gestures.

Yoshio looked on passively at the curiosity that was Suou Tamaki, practically dancing about his house as though it were his own. Then again, Yoshio reminded himself, it might as well be, since he was apparently going to marry his son. Suou seemed fairly calm, considering this morning's paper. When he'd asked if the Suou family knew of Kyouya's plan he had meant the elder ones. He assumed that Tamaki had known of Kyouya's plot, but apparently even that was a bit too straight-forward for his son's tastes. Mentally, he laughed as Kyouya's heavy handed brand of secrecy.

"Well as you said, I don't care for music. So I'll retire and allow you to return to your activities."

And with no further fanfare, he left.

Tamaki heaved a sigh of relief. He'd survived an encounter with Ootori-sama, and this time, he'd even managed it without Kyouya's guidance. Although, something had felt a bit off about the way Ootori-sama had spoken to him. It was almost...nicer than usual. Nevertheless, Tamaki shrugged and returned to his seat at the piano. He must have been in a good mood because it was morning!

Tamaki began to improvise, not needing to decide on a composition now that he had some emotions to go by. The piece was turning out to be a very different one. Full of life and bounce with staccato notes stuck in at odd times, yet the tempo was slow and peaceful the way everything about the Ootori house was. It was a bit contradictory, but so were most beautiful things in Tamaki's life. As he began to shift into a second movement, he added a bit of Chopin trills because he knew Kyouya liked Chopin.

After an hour or so, his fingers grew tired and his brain was slowly running out of inspiration. He wondered where the twins were, and if he ought to attempt to wake Kyouya again. Speak of the devil.

"That was a new one, wasn't it Tamaki?", Kyouya asked from the couch closest to the door. Evidently he'd sneaked in at some point, accompanied by his laptop, the daily newspaper, and a cup of coffee. Because Kyouya liked predictability, or at least the illusion of predictability, Tamaki knew he was checking stocks. "What's the title?" Kyouya asked playfully.

Tamaki relaxed at Kyouya's words and felt a large, content smile spread across his face. As rare as the experience was, he enjoyed Kyouya on a Saturday morning. "It's called 'Kyou-kun's Papa Sure is Scary'. It'll go platinum in a week."

Kyouya chucked appreciatively at that, and Tamaki swelled with pride. With Kyouya, he'd learned to treasure every smile he could steal, to work for every laugh and to fully enjoy the rewards of his efforts.

"Truth in music. It's popular right now.", Kyouya said pleasantly.

"Kao-chii and Hika-chii are coming over, although they really should have gotten here a while ago." Tamaki said with a touch of worry. "I wonder what's taking so long..." His mind provided horrifying images of the twins being inappropriate in their limo. He grimaced.

Kyouya thankfully interrupted the scene. "They're probably just having trouble navigating the sea of paparazzi."

"Paparazzi? Oh! What's the occasion?" Tamaki said in excitement. To people of his and Kyouya's class, paparazzi were simply a fact of life, an indication of a successful business venture or a new baby in the family. A cause for celebration.

"If you read the newspaper you would already know, idiot."

"Read...the newspaper?" he repeated, puzzled. Then, as though expounding upon one of life's great mysteries he continued, "Honestly, Kyouya! Why on _earth_ would I do _that_? It's much more pleasant to hear the news directly from other people!"

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "You should at least read it when the contents are about us."

Tamaki's eyes widened. A pause, full of anxiety. Kyouya was vaguely surprised that he'd picked up on it that fast. And then, a gasp and a torrential flow of words,"You mean the story of our chain of host clubs has finally been broken? That's wonderful, Mummy! Yahoooo!"

Kyouya considered himself a very patient lover. He calmly explained things when Tamaki got lost, and did his best to refrain from mocking Tamaki's imaginary mental...deficiencies. And he felt that he was even, dare he say it, _tolerant_ when Tamaki's ill-behaved imagination drove him to hysterics. But even Kyouya had his limits. He grew annoyed and his frustration made it to his voice.

"No, imbecile! I mean that _we_are in the papers! You. And. I." He slowed his tempo, emphasizing every syllable for maximum clarity and tapping Tamaki in the head with said newspaper. "We have been _outed_, Tamaki."

Kyouya breathed deeply, reviving his calm. He tossed the newspaper in Tamaki's face. He continued his outward act, but inside, his entire attention was closely watching Tamaki's reaction.

He saw fear. And shock. And maybe even...relief? He released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. All traces of Tamaki's more whimsical side seemed to die down. "I...I need to call my father."

In a rare moment of sympathy, Kyouya clutched Tamaki's hand, fingering his engagement band, and pulled him down onto the couch.

"Not yet, you don't."

Kyouya disliked this part of his plan. It was a weak point, but it was necessary.

"You're going to stay here for a while. And you're not going to call your family."

"Kyou-"

He was cut off by Kyouya's mouth.

The kiss was cliche. It was typical, familiar. It was like any other one of the thousands of kisses they had shared in last 3 years. And in this moment of terror, the moment that he'd known was coming for years, yet had never prepared for...it was perfect. Time stopped. They broke apart.

"What about when your dad finds out, Kyouya?"

Kyouya actually laughed, like he hadn't since that fateful day when he'd thrown over his coffee table and soaked his knees in tea and Tamaki.

"You really are an idiot. Obviously, he already knows." He patted Tamaki's cheek in way that might have been condescending.

"The next few months will be really difficult Tamaki. But it will all turn out."

His hand fell to Tamaki's chin and he pulled him in for another kiss.

"I'm going to give you a _real_ family, Tamaki. That's a promise."


	7. Chapter 4: Not Worth the Debt

_**Title: Objects in Motion**_

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, Hitachiincest, HaruhixKasanoda_

_Note: Since the focus of the story is changing from my original intent I've changed the summary to something a bit more general. Do you think this summary is better or worse?_

_._

It was five o'clock and Haruhi's stomach was beginning to rumble. She had already spent four hours indulging the twins in their troublesome games and whims and she was beginning to wonder if they ever ran out of energy. She supposed that in the fashion industry it was a necessity to have an abundant flow of excitement and inspiration, but she was not in the fashion industry and she was not built to keep up with such personalities.

While she had been obliging enough to don sun dresses and prom gowns to appease the twins, she had given pause when she found a wedding dress hanging on the wall of the dressing room. What business did the twins have with wedding dresses? Why did they want her to wear one?

A sickening feeling of dread overcame her. If her experiences in high school had taught her anything, it was how to recognize the connection between strange behavior and inconvenient news. And while she might not have thought twice about it a few years ago, Haruhi found the presence of the dress intrusive and uncomfortable. There were an infinite number of implications that such a simple action could imply. Not for the first time, Haruhi got the eerie sensation that someone knew something she didn't.

"Haruhi~!" Two twin voices called through the curtain,"What's the hold-up?"

In spite of her apprehension, Haruhi supposed that the twin's reasons didn't really matter. This was just another game, like always, and it was her duty to play along. It was really the least she could do for them, considering how much they had helped her. She hadn't known at the time, but when she'd met the twins she'd been missing out on her own life. As ridiculous as it sounded, she'd been so focused on her future that she hadn't paid any mind to what she wanted for her present. The Host Club, no, the twins had shown her how to live every day to it's fullest, without compromising what she wanted for her future. Now, her future was her present, and Haruhi couldn't help but wonder what kind of life she would be living if she was still fixated on what came next.

So, throwing caution to the wind, she put on the dress. She even allowed herself to look in the mirror. It was a rather plain dress for the Hitachiin's, consisting only of a form-fitting silk dress with a tailored, satin bust that crisscrossed and accentuated her narrow shoulders. It flared at the bottom like rose petals and lengthened into a modest train in the back. Haruhi wondered who it was for, who in the Hitachiin's customer base would appreciate such simple beauty. She was started when she realized that she felt pretty. Not handsome or cute like in the Host Club, but like an actual, grown up woman. It was terrifying.

Haruhi wasn't pretty. Haruhi wasn't meant to be pretty. Pretty was an affectation. Pretty implied effort and self-consciousness. Haruhi was practical, intelligent, simple. Haruhi had many strengths, but she did not count physical beauty among them because she found it to be a wasted effort.

Worse yet, Haruhi's father was pretty. She never wanted to be like her father.

The twins' voices sounded apprehensive now. "Haruhi?"

"It's okay guys. I'm coming out."

She stepped through the curtain and out onto the small catwalk that the twin's studio housed. The twin's cooing, self-satisfied compliments greeted her. "Haruhi-chan, you look great!" Hikaru said with earnest, walking in a circle around her, examining the way the dress fell. "Very pretty!" Kaoru chirped along, circling in the opposite direction.

Haruhi felt like prey to vultures. Why did she do these things for them? She shut her eyes, trying to block out Kaoru's comment especially. She didn't want to be pretty, was that so hard to understand? She wasn't some flowery princess like the rest of the girls the twins knew. She was Haruhi, and she demanded respect and dignity.

And pants.

"I'm going to change into my clothes." she said flatly, inviting no discussion.

The twins stepped onto the catwalk, barring her exit. "Come on, Haruhi! It can't be that bad!" Kaoru said apologetically, hands open in front of him in a gesture of pacifism.

"It is. I hate dresses, you guys know that."

"But surely even you would wear one for your wedding, wouldn't you Haruhi-chan?" Hikaru asked. He was mildly upset. He worked hard to design that dress especially for her.

"Why does it matter, I'm not getting married." She replied testily.

"You could be." The said together, identically serious looks affecting their features.

Haruhi felt her mood slip still lower. The twin's confrontational sides were even more difficult to handle then they normally were. She never knew the best way to put a stop to it. This time around, she chose to end the discussion through directness.

"And who would I marry? I'm not dating anybody."

Without missing a beat, as though he'd anticipated this, Hikaru responded. "You could marry us."

Haruhi's thoughts completely slipped her mind. Had those words really just come out of Hikaru's mouth? She grew angry.

Maybe they had forgotten, but Haruhi could see through their acts. For years she'd caught their secret glances and incriminating blushes. Who were they kidding? The twins had been in a secret relationship for as long as Haruhi had known them. So what were they doing asking her to marry them? Did they believe she would be content to live her life as some red-herring trophy wife? Her spark of anger grew into outright fury.

Once, she'd considered these two lonely, insecure boys her best friends. Now here they were disrespecting her, trying to trick her into agreeing to some insane cover up life? Who did they think she was? Who did they think they were? When did the brilliant pranksters of Ouran become manipulative monkeys with transparent plots like this?

She felt like screaming, and for once she did. The twins flinched, and exchanged a look of shared regret. They'd known this would happen, yet they hadn't been able to resist their own curiousity. All Haruhi could think was '_Where did they get such a stupid idea?'_. Becoming aware of the silence, Haruhi felt obligated to say something.

"Where did you get an idea like that?" she yelled, arms tensing, hands clenched. She wasn't normally so emotional, but she was tired and stressed and she felt like her best friends had betrayed her trust. "Did you think I would just go along with something like this? You two are unbelievable!" He eyes welled up despite her attempt at composure. She hadn't wasted much time in her childhood envision this moment like some girls did. However, the few times she had, it wasn't anything like this.

Kaoru spoke up, voice laced with contrition. "Our mom has been talking about marriage a lot lately."

Hikaru did a very convincing impression of his own mother. _"Can you believe it, Miri-chan? Two handsome, talented boys, 23 years old, and not a single girlfriend! Not even a date! I'll never have grandchildren! I'll never have grandchildren!"_

He imitated a pose of grand distress, right hand draped over his eyes, left positioned delicately upward, wrist limp. The act did little to hide he actual feelings of guilt and disappointment.

"So you thought you would hide behind me?" Haruhi asked, anger distending into a cool, stern glare. "What happened to you two? These people aren't my friends." she said, motioning at each of the twins in turn.

The twins offered no reply, other than to sink their shoulders still lower and glance nervously about the room like scolded children. Haruhi took their silence as a request for more.

"Have you forgotten everything Tamaki-sempai taught us? 'Honesty' and 'true love' and all that nonsense! The only thing trapping you is yourselves. If you don't want to get married, then tell you mother that. She loves you, she will find a way to accept you."

She was sure there was more to be said, but at that moment her cell phone happily chirped her 6 o'clock alarm. She turned sharply and stalked back to the dressing room.

Pulling on her polyester business slacks and buttoning up her blazer she reached for her briefcase and left the cursed dress in a pile on the floor. She exited to find that the twins had left. Huffing, she had half a mind to find them and continue her rant, but she didn't want to make Kasanoda wait.

Hurridly, she grabbed a post it note from Kaoru's desk and scribbled two phone numbers. Stamping it a bit too harshly on the handle of the door, she turned the knob. Without looking back, she stormed out of the office, rode the elevator down to the lobby and went to hail a cab.

_._

The trendy boutiques and restaurants of Jiyugaoka sped through the window of Ootori Fuyumi's limo as it made its way toward Den'enchofu, where Kyouya and Tamaki's manor was located. Touya sat across from her, talking animatedly about his first day of school. At some point in the day he'd been fitted into his uniform, a white and blue sailor themed outfit with a large white bow at the front. Fuyumi opened the small cardstock bag the school had given her to find a bottle of Italian champagne, French goat cheese, an orange, and Touya's original clothing in a neat little stack.

She had half expected Touya to be tired from the eventful day, but he actually seemed even more vivacious than usual. Fuyumi nodded patiently as Touya's endless speech continued, having toned him out after the first several minutes of babbling. It was surreal, spending time with her son like this. He was supposed to take after her, but he really remind her of when she was a pre-teen and it had been Kyouya who had rambled endlessly about his first day in preschool. For a moment she felt quite old. She wondered when Kyouya had become himself; whether he had always had it in him or if it was her father's upbringing that had shaped his unique personality. Could Kyouya have stayed a carefree, happy child like Touya?

But these thoughts were useless now.

She was missing her son's once in a lifetime account of his first day of school. She noticed a bit late that through the last 15 minutes of the drive Touya had yet to mention his classmates. She decided to ask.

"So tell me, Touya-kun, did you make any friends today?" she prompted pleasantly.

He paused. Thought about it, chocked on the words a bit, the way 3 year-olds often did.

"Yeah, but only 'cause Daddy told me to."

Fuyumi's face fell a bit. "Didn't you want to make friends?" she asked carefully, a bit worried to hear the answer.

"Yeah, but they were boring!" he answered a bit too loudly, frustrated. A bit defensive. "None of them can read yet. And they say I talk funny."

"You speak wonderfully, Touya-kun! Much better than most children your age."

"The other kids don't know some of the words I use." He said dejectedly.

Fuyumi hesitated, not sure if it was healthy to tell a 3-year-old that he was drastically more advanced than his classmates. But, she reminded herself, Touya was a very smart boy. He would likely begin to understand soon enough. It would probably be better for her to explain it now before Touya made some damaging assumptions about human nature.

"Everybody does things in their own time, Touya. You are very smart and things like that are easy for you. Next time, just use the opportunity to teach them what those words mean." She said smoothly.

Touya didn't seem reassured. Fuyumi shifted carefully to the other side of the limo and put her hand on his back. He leaned into her side and Fuyumi felt a pang of sadness. He may have been her baby, but Touya was her brother's son. As an aunt it was her duty to guide but not to nurture. That privilege, in her opinion, was reserved for a parent. Even so, she held him close, her hand gently rubbing his back and told him stories of his father's preschool difficulties.

.

Tamaki was sitting in the Superintendent's office at Ouran, pouring over lists and documents. He was prioritizing, deciding which of the Suou's many companies were most important to their financial and political power and deciding which ones would be easiest to buy out. Just as he opened a new file, one detailing the corporate structure of a chain of luxury resorts in the Carribean, his phone rang. It shimied slightly to and fro from the vibrations, and a smiling picture of the Hitachiin twins appeared on the front. Curious, he answered.

"Why hello my darlings! Did you miss Papa?" He asked with enthusiasm.

Kaoru sighed. Tamaki-sempai had this ridiculous notion that since cell phones told you who was calling, that you ought to prepare a personalized greeting. Kaoru honestly preferred to feign ignorance, to pretend that, like in the old days, he had no idea who might be on the other end. Mostly, he disliked how the conversation was immediately off topic because of the nature of Tamaki-sempai's greetings.

"It's just me, Tono. And no. I didn't miss you."

All feelings of rejection aside, Tamaki had a small dilemma on his hands. Obviously, he was being tested. Even on a good day and when standing in front of them, he'd rarely told the twins apart. Did this twin really expect a correct response over the phone? At length, Tamaki decided that he had little choice but to guess.

"Oh, Kaoru-kun, don't say such things to your loving father! You know how it hurts me."

Evidently, he had guessed right since no protests came from the other end.

"You know, you sound more like a mother than a father when you talk like that, Tono."

Tamaki didn't seem to have a response for that, so Kaoru continued.

"Anyway, we got into an argument with Haruhi and she left this number on my desk. I don't really get why." He sounded upset, but also confused.

Tamaki considered his friend's words carefully. There was something hidden there, something he was meant to understand.

As much as Tamaki often played the fool to put people at ease, the truth was that he was actually very smart. He had been second only to Kyouya in grade rankings, after all. And that in itself had been a compromise, since Kyouya had needed to be the Head of Class to satisfy his father while Tamaki gained nothing by overtaking him. True, he had a propensity to go on flights of fancy, during which his behavior was a bit immature, but on the whole he was a rather perceptive person. He prided himself on his ability to understand people without effort, and his ability to use this skill to help people was unmatched. Haruhi must have sent Kaoru to him for a reason.

"We ran into her at Ouran today, so we took her back to our studio and forced her to play dress up with us."

The twins always spoke in riddles. They feared openness and honesty and so they built walls. Yet, in time they grew lonely and they installed doors, doors which only opened to those who would play their games, could pass their tests. Tamaki wondered if this "argument" had been a test.

Because Haruhi was involved, it was likely that she hadn't even realized that it was a test. Kaoru's voice dripped disappointment into Tamaki's ear.

"I...I think we messed up, Tono."

Tamaki sighed emphatically. The twins had a lot of affection for Haruhi. She'd been the first to tell them apart, the first to grant them individuality. The twins attributed this to her intelligence, but Tamaki knew it was just her directness. She hadn't passed the test, hadn't been allowed through the door. She'd just climbed over the wall. There was no other logical way to do it in her mind. And so when a new wall appeared and a new game began she continued to be blissfully unaware of the way the twins' world worked.

"What did you do?" Tamaki asked softly. He was mildly worried about Haruhi, but he suspected that the twins were probably worse for wear.

"We..." he trailed off. "It was so stupid! Stupid! We asked her to marry us, Tono." he said with remorse.

"What?" Tamaki shrieked. That was the last thing he'd expected. "You asked Haruhi to- -WHAT?"

"I know! I'm sorry!"

Tamaki's mind drifted back to his senior year of high school. He and Haruhi had almost dated, but it didn't go well. Haruhi grew irritated with his doting and heartfelt compliments. Tamaki hadn't understood until too late that a girl like Haruhi didn't want to be told of her own merits. She just wanted to enjoy things quietly alongside you. She hated pretension and fabrication. Then there was the twins. They were exclusive, with many layers of defenses. One could say they were the essence of "fabrication". Everything about them was an act, a hidden meaning, a silent plea.

Romance between them seemed like a lost cause.

But the mystery still remained, why had Haruhi left _Tamaki's_ number on Kaoru's desk? What was it that she meant for him to say? He supposed he should start at the most basic and work towards the complex.

"Do you want to get married?"

Kaoru didn't respond immediately.

"I'm not sure." he finally uttered. "I love Hikaru more than anything. But we're so similar...even after we've tried to hard to be different."

Tamaki intentionally withheld his reply. People fear silence. Tamaki learned long ago that people would say things they would otherwise keep to themselves if it meant suppressing an uncomfortable silence. Like clockwork, Kaoru's speech resumed.

"We get bored with each other, and sometimes we fight just because we don't have anything else to do. I...I think we might be happier if we had someone in between us." His voice shook the more he spoke, shook with fear as Kaoru admitted his inability to fulfill Hikaru. Tamaki knew instinctively that this was the crux of the problem. He supplied his advice with solemnity, emphasizing each phrase with importance.

"Needing someone else is okay. No single person can supply all of the needs of another. Everyone need friends, family, _and_ lovers to be happy. If you think you two would be happier, then you should find someone else to entertain you. And needing someone else doesn't mean that you aren't enough for Hikaru, it just means that you each have needs the other can't supply because you are family first, lovers second."

Kaoru sat in silence, absorbing Tamaki's words. It was strange how such an idiotic human being like Tamaki could house a deep fountain of knowledge like his.

"Do think that kind of person exists? Who wouldn't think we were weird?"

Tamaki chuckled lightly. If the world had enough weirdness in it to create such supremely unusual beings as the twins, Tamaki was certain that it also must contain someone who could love them for who they were. He told Kaoru so.

Kaoru laughed softly. "Haruhi was right. I did forget the things you tried so hard to teach us. 'True love' and all that nonsense."

"It's not nonsense." Tamaki chided, "And feel free to call me when you meet that girl. I happen to know a guy who knows an extremely liberal priest."

"Does your guy wear glasses?" Kaoru joked.

"As a matter of fact, he does."

"Then I think I'll pass. Not worth the debt."

.

Haruhi laughed loudly, slamming down her can of green tea mocha. She was sitting in the lively mess hall of the Kasanoda-gumi, hearing amusing tales of Ritsu-kun's childhood. Ritsu himself was as red as his hair, staring at his miso with intense mortification. Haruhi wondered if his gaze alone could boil his soup.

She felt a bit bad, but she couldn't help laughing. The image of Baby Ritsu roasting marshmallows with a heirloom katana was just too funny. As the ruckus died down somewhat, her guilt caught up with her and she asked the Kasanoda boys if they would mind clearing the tables while she and Ritsu-kun went for a walk. All at once, the men of various ages jumped to attention, yelled "Anything the master wishes!", and began bustling about the facility, cleaning every speck of spilled food from the building. In a way, Haruhi found their devotion quite charming, even if the image of a Yakuza gang should have been distasteful. These men obeyed out of love for their foster family, not out of fear like in traditional gangs. It came as no surprise that, like his gang, Ritsu Kasanoda's tough-guy image was merely a front for a very warm, friendly interior.

"Come on, Ritsu-kun." she said easily, rising from the table and stepping down the raised platform. As a guest of the master, she and Ritsu were required to eat at the central table on a platform. Kasanoda nodded stiffly and followed.

Not much had really changed in the Kasanoda-gumi. It was still nestled into the quieter side streets of Yokohama, just a short train ride from the group's main sources of income in Shinjuku and Shimokitazawa. Some new recruits had joined up, some older members had retired. But overall it was the same quirky location that Haruhi had been visiting regularly for the past few years. She couldn't explain it, but she really liked spending time with Kasanoda. He was humble and unassuming, and very sensitive to Haruhi's likes and dislikes. In all honesty, Haruhi couldn't really understand how Kasanoda had ended up at Ouran at all. He wasn't anything like the people there.

She thought that was why she like Kasanoda. He was a kindred spirit. Misunderstood, different, down-to-earth but funny too. They walked through the inner courtyard of the house, where a small traditional garden grew. A trickling stream ran through the center, flowing beneath the foundation of the entire building. It was a traditional house, all shoji doors and tatami mats with long, dark wood rafters stretching down narrow, winding halls. Eventually, she found her way to Kasanoda's room.

Like Ritsu himself, the room was very unassuming. A katana from the Meiji era sat reverently in an alcove with a Showa era scroll hanging behind it proclaiming "sincerity" in two sweeping, India ink characters. Haruhi wondered if that was the sword the boys had been telling her about. Various low shelves held Ritsu's few worldly possessions, including pictures of him and his boys playing kick the can and one of his father and him in front of pachinko parlor, a "Grand Opening" sign hung in the background. In the center of one wall, an ornate shrine sat with a Desert Eagle pistol resting on top. The interior of the shrine was littered with dozens of smiling portraits arranged around a small offering of incense.

Ritsu was very devout. Never once in all her visits had Haruhi seen him neglect the alter. Tonight was no different as he shot her an apologetic glance and knelt before it, lit a fresh stick of incense, and bowed his head. Haruhi's own shrine still held her mother's picture, and so she had no trouble understanding Kasanoda's habits. However she always felt rather sad when she watched him pay his respects. His alter was so much more crowded than hers, and the only picture she recognized was the woman whose hair and eyes matched Ritsu's . She suspected that his young life had probably been shaped very much by death. She couldn't imagine the amount of grief his tiny alter must contain.

After a few long minutes, Ritsu rose and joined Haruhi on the other side of the room. There was a small television in the opposite corner with two large cushions in front of it. He sat down and turned the TV on to a variety show that he and Haruhi both liked. Haruhi joined him.

"So, uh, how did your thing with Suou go?", he asked reluctantly.

Fake laughs burst from the television.

Haruhi wasn't really sure how to explain it without telling the whole story. But she was pretty sure that would be a breach of client-consultant confidentiality.

"It went okay." She said plainly. "My work is pretty much done, at least until Tamaki-sempai's grandmother dies. But it didn't really work out very well for him."

"Oh." Ritsu replied. He wanted to ask, but Haruhi's tone held him in silence. He was always afraid of upsetting her. It was hard to tell how much of Haruhi's behavior meant something and how much of it was just her mannerisms. Fortunately for him, Haruhi took his silence as permission to continue.

"I just don't get it. Why can't rich people just be honest like you?

Kasanoda nearly choked on his own air. Haruhi didn't seem to notice. After years of sneaking glances and hiding his blushes, Ritsu hardly felt "honest". Actually, the years since high school had only served to deepen his attraction to her, to the point where he finally broke down and invited her over out of desperation. They had been meeting consistently ever since.

"I mean, how hard is it to just tell people what you really want?" she said with venom, no longer speaking to Ritsu, but to the twins and Tamaki's grandmother.

Ritsu ducked his head in shame. Seeing Haruhi speak with such passion had sent his mind in a direction he'd rather keep secret. He wanted nothing more than to sick his boys on that good-for-nothing Suou guy, but at the same time he almost wanted to sick them on himself. He wasn't any more innocent then Suou. Hadn't he lied to Haruhi about his feelings? Wouldn't he cause her just as much trouble if she ever found out?

Ritsu suddenly wondered what he'd been thinking, inviting Haruhi here. There was only one thing that could happen, and that was that his cover would be blown and Haruhi would hate him. He berated himself harshly, never daring to look at Haruhi.

But at length, he cracked. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Haruhi!"

Haruhi was caught off guard. "Sorry about what?"

He thanked the heavens that Haruhi was so naturally oblivious. He could still save his sinking ship. "I'm sorry that...uh...that people are so inconsiderate!" he said desperately, knowing it sounded awkward.

Haruhi bought it. Her form relaxed and even chuckled somberly. "I'm sorry, Ritsu-kun, did I upset you? I should have known that you might sympathize a bit too much." She reached into her pocket and took out a handkerchief with "_Ranka-san loves you! :3_" embroidered in red on the corner. "Here, I'm sorry I made you sad."

Ritsu should have found this demeaning, but all he could think about was how impossibly lucky he was to be able to blow his nose on Haruhi's handmade handkerchief. He actually did cry a little at the thought. Haruhi attributed it to Ritsu-kun's extreme empathic tendencies and gave him a comforting smile.

"Haruhi..." he said, self-control slipping.

"Yeah?" she asked.

_'You're the most amazing girl I've ever met.' he thought.  
_

"I'm so glad we're friends."

.

AN: A bit jumpy, and very very long. I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter. But it's a time between events and I think it serves it's purpose well enough.


	8. Chapter 5: A Silly Question

_**Title: Objects in Motion**_

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, Hitachiincest, HaruhixKasanoda_

_This chapter is dedicated to all of the amazing people who left me reviews! I am so appreciative of you for taking the time to leave feedback! I would especially like to thank Epouvantable for leaving such a very complimentary and helpful review! I was taken aback when I read that. Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
_

_._

Kyouya was in his home office, an austere room in the east wing of the Ootori-Suou Manor.

In most ways, it was the same as any office, the usual assortment of furniture and knick-knacks adorned the space, all centered around an enormous, eight foot tall desk and file cabinet. Along the walls were nearly twenty oil paintings, Kyouya's favorites of his and Tamaki's expansive art collection. The paintings had gold leaf frames and brass plaques bearing names like _"Manet"_, _"Rembrandt",_ and "_Lichtenstein". _Hung among them were several "abstract pieces", as Tamaki called them, with 2-year-old hand prints and lopsided smiley faces.

Easily the largest picture in the room was a 6 foot tall Renaissance-style painting of the Host Club. It had been made on the day of Mori and Honey's graduation to commemorate the original seven hosts. They were wearing the Venice costumes from the Salon Race, quite possibly the most ornate and expensive costumes they had ever commissioned. Tamaki sat on a throne, relaxed and pleased with his work. Haruhi knelt before him, her pose betraying her Japanese roots despite Hikaru's attempt to make the picture convincingly Renaissance. Her smile was small but genuine and Tamaki's left hand rested paternally on her hair. Directly to Tamaki's right was Kyouya in his usual blues and purples, legs crossed with his raised foot brushing Tamaki's calf. An enigmatic smile graced his painted lips as if to say "_I know something you don't know." _Behind him stood Kaoru and Hikaru, like mirror images. The picture had been painted before the twins' Junior year schism and thus they appeared more like one being than two, Kaoru's hair was still the same dull russet as Hikaru's. On either side of them stood Mori and Honey, the latter perched on a tall stool to provide balance to Mori's towering height. They made quite a picture, seven handsome men standing united under the_ noble _cause of serving women. How ironic, thought Kyouya dryly, that four of the seven were homosexuals.

From the corner of his desk, a cell phone chirped and a video feed of his front door appeared on the flat screen. He looked down casually to see his son and sister walking inside, hand in hand. His lips quirked in a slight half smile and he saved the spreadsheet he'd been working on and placed the phone in his pocket.

Checking his desk, he noticed several folders that he'd left open and hastily set about replacing them into the filing cabinet. His time was short and these things needed to be taken care of before-

"MOMMY!"

A blur of 3-year-old energy burst through the doors as though life itself depended on its speedy arrival. It continued into the space, clambering over the edge of his desk in a flurry of papers. Touya's foot clumsily kicked the laptop as he moved to sit and Kyouya cringed at the sound of cracking plastic. He spun in his chair to face his son.

"Good Afternoon, Touya-kun." He said through pursed lips. "Did you enjoy your first day of school?"

"We did Tai-Chi in gym class!" Touya said ecstatically.

Kyouya nodded his approval. "I suppose that is a 'yes'."

He looked up, expecting his sister to enter, but caught only a flash of her retreating form, silk dress billowing slightly through the door frame. It struck him as odd, but he supposed she must have somewhere to be, now that she was a married woman.

He glanced at the clock above his desk and saw that it was nearly four o'clock. Touya would be expecting his afternoon snack any minute. The new prices for anesthetic were coming online at six and Kyouya had a board meeting at eight the next morning. Tamaki should have been home by three. Troublesome.

"Where's Daddy?"

Kyouya sighed and pulled Touya onto his shoulders. Usually Tamaki did his work during the evenings, leaving him free to care for their son during the day while Kyouya worked. This kind of change in routine tended to upset him.

"He's working tonight." he said casually, holding Touya's tiny hands to keep him balanced as Kyouya glided down the East Hallway. Ten tiny fingers constricted around his thumbs, and Kyouya braced himself for a tantrum. Before Touya could get started, he lifted the boy down to his waist and let his head rest on his shoulder. It was definitely not safe to have a screaming, writhing toddler perched precariously on his back.

A few preemptive whines escaped Touya's mouth and he craned his neck to look at his father with puffy, strained eyes. Kyouya recognized it for what it was, a warning. '_I know you can't stand crying._' those pouts seemed to say.

"If you ask with your words then maybe we'll go visit him." Kyouya said enticingly.

Unlike Tamaki, he refused to play along with Touya's toddler games. Once he'd begun to grasp more complex vocabulary, Kyouya had taught the boy about the basics of deal making and their exchanges had since become remarkably less tear-filled. He was glad for it, as he'd been waiting for the ear-splitting wailing to stop since the day the boy was born.

Touya's face visibly brightened, but his lips stayed tight in a stiff frown. Apparently he thought it best that Kyouya did not see his victory. Kyouya held back a laugh at the arrogance of youth.

He continued on his way through the house, arriving at the central atrium and descending the grand, sweeping staircase. The public parts of the house were quite luxurious, with European styling, since it was Tamaki's preference and it gave the best impression to guests. Thus, the ceiling was domed and immaculately molded with a classical mural adorned the center, although, at Kyouya's insistence, it lacked the usual drunken satyrs and overweight cherubs. Instead, it featured the twelve astrological signs which were mythical and romantic enough to satisfy Tamaki's need for grandeur. The stairs were covered in plush red carpet and the banisters were marble sculptures of every god and goddess in the Greek pantheon. In the center of the atrium was a large fountain featuring an angel pouring a vase of water into a small pond, where waterlilies grew. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned to his left and passed through the dining room into the kitchen. He greeted the cook with a nod and retrieved a small fruit cocktail, freshly made and served in a crystal dish, from a tray on the counter.

Returning to the atrium, he called for the car and settled Touya on the stairs. "Don't drip." he said simply, handing Touya his customary afternoon snack and pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He had several missed calls from Hikaru and he was about to dismiss them as another one began to ring. Rolling his eyes he chose to ignore it. Clearly, the Hitachiin's didn't know how to take a hint. He opened his GPS and saw that Tamaki was still at the Ouran Administrative building. His brow furrowed and he attempted to convince himself that he wasn't worried.

The limo arrived and Kyouya ushered Touya into the car, noting the cherry stains on his brand new uniform. He scoffed, pulled a moist toilette from the wet bar, and began wiping down his juice-covered son. Indeed, he definitely hadn't thought ahead enough when he'd decided to raise Touya has his own. At least, he reminded himself, the boy could feed himself now which was decidedly an improvement over the infant stage.

"Mommy." Touya said as the damp cloth reached his red, sticky cheeks. "When did you turn into a man?"

The limo grew as silent as a tomb. Kyouya was stunned, looking down at the boy who looked so much like him. Where did he get such a ridiculous notion? A plethora of thoughts came to him all at once. _'When did I turn into a man?'_

"_When I fucked your father."_ seemed a sufficient answer, but Kyouya figured that would be traumatizing. _He's only three years old and he's probably just confused and what did he even mean by that? And he's only THREE YEARS OLD. And-_

And he really wished he could just turn back time and keep Touya happy and oblivious forever. Kyouya had hoped this wouldn't come up for at least another five years or so, when he could more properly explain lofty things like _love_ and _attraction _and _liking penises more than breasts_. But the inconvenient fact was that Touya was just like Tamaki, and his husband never did things at the most convenient time. And, really, he ought to know better than anyone how to deal with Tamaki. He sighed and resigned himself to whatever trouble Touya might unknowingly create.

"I've always been a man, Touya-kun. That's a silly question."

Touya looked dissatisfied but said nothing more. The rest of the journey was spent in silence; the kind that spoke of words not said. When they arrived, Kyouya took his son's hand and walked as quickly as Touya could manage. He had a destination in mind, and he felt the need to get there quickly. With his free hand he checked his cell phone's GPS once more. Still in the Administrative Building. He replaced the phone in his pocket and adjusted his glasses. He had time for a detour. He turned left sharply and skirted the edge of the central pond with the statue of the peeing cherub.

As he neared the building, he grew impatient of Touya's pace and opted to carry him instead. He opened the front door to the High School with one self-assured heave. His pace continued to increase as he passed each memory by; classrooms, windows, shadows of teachers and sons of chairmen. He passed the bulletin board where class ranks were posted, and futures were won. He went past the main salon where his father had slapped him in public, up the stairs where he used to hear whispers about him and Haruhi, down the nearly endless corridor where Kuze had run into him once, twice, several times a month. He was nearly jogging by the time he made it to the ominous doors of the Black Magic Club, so fast he almost forgot to stop at the notorious, almost overwhelmingly familiar doors of the Ouran Host Club.

He paused, stood in awe of them, because that's what you were supposed to do. Because if you didn't, you might just forget their significance, the power they held. They could save your soul, could whisk you away to a land of rose petals and carriages and fairy tale endings. Or you could open them, and they could cast you out, could show you that, really, it's just another empty ballroom with a piano and some couches and a slight after-scent of commoner's coffee. You could stand there forever, pondering your fate, or you could enter and risk what you might see. Whether they knew it or not, each person who entered the Host Club took that risk.

Kyouya himself had never had to wonder. He never had the choice, because at the front of Tamaki's little micro-dimension were these two doors and only Kyouya had the keys. He had been the gate keeper and it was his responsibility, and his alone, to see the truth. It was his job to live with the pain of remembering that reality was the ballroom, the stale coffee the $1,000 service charges. That the few granted entry into the World of Roses, would still, inevitably, have to float back out the doors and continue walking toward their futures. The roses were just airbrushed polyester, the carriages were just pumpkins, and the hosts were just lonely young men.

And for the first time, Kyouya stood before the doors and was allowed to see the fantasy, the dream. He brought his hand to the heavy, bronze handle, let it rest there, and felt the warmth of the sun on his back. He cycled through his key ring until he found the old club key that the Superintendent had granted him as a gift of appreciation for looking after Tamaki. He slid it in and was pleased to hear it mesh perfectly with the lock. '_Still works._'

He turned the knob with confidence, rose petals in his mind, and pushed open the large, heavy oak door. And when he opened the door he found-

An empty ballroom, with a piano, and a faint smell of stale coffee.

He smiled and took a deep, long breath, savoring the smell. Relief flooded his senses as he found the same plush couches, the same long red drapes, the same blessed piano, and not a speck of glitter or rose petals in sight.

He liked it when things were just as he remembered them, even if it wasn't the grand illusion that he'd always been curious about.

"Mommy?" Touya said, perhaps for the hundredth time that day.

"Hush." Kyouya said sternly. "I'm here to show you something important."

Along one wall, which used to be empty, now hung three 6-foot paintings. The first was a complete replica of the painting in Kyouya's office. Next was a painting of the twins, Haruhi, and three freshmen whom Kyouya had scarcely bothered to meet. The final one featured the new, "restored" Host Club, with Takaoji Shiro front and center, dressed like the prince Tamaki had taught him to be. Surrounding him were five men of various types and builds, but all were easily recognizable as one of the Host Club 6: Princely, Cool, Wild, Loli-Shota, Little Devil, and Natural. Each picture was labeled with an engraved gold plaque proclaiming the school year and the subjects presented. Lining the right hand side of each picture were dozens of framed photographs.

He approached the imposing painting on the far left, the one that featured him.

"Recognize anybody?" he asked lightly, aloof.

"Daddy and Mommy! And Haruhi-san."

"That's right. And a lot of other friends that you might not remember. You were just a baby last time we saw them."

"That's sad."

"I suppose so." he replied at length.

Kyouya brought them closer to the wall, so that the photographs were easily viewed. He pointed at one, just above eye height. It was a copy of one of Tamaki's most treasured possessions. The picture displayed a sweeping green field in the French countryside, where a thin, blonde woman clutched her 14 year old son, who smiled sadly.

"That's your daddy's mother, Touya. She died the year after you were born. Daddy hadn't seen his mommy for seven years until then."

Touya gaped at him in disbelief. "No way!"

"Yes way." Kyouya said. The circumstances surrounding her death had been tragic, but that wasn't really so different from how it had always been. Kyouya had found her just a month before, by accessing an information salesman's e-mail back-log. He'd arranged for Tamaki to see her on his birthday in two months time, after Touya was born. But she grew deathly ill and he had flown there nearly a month early. They had one year together as her health declined. She had lived in Japan that year, knowing that the harsh weather would do nothing to shorten her dwindling life. It had been unfortunate, but Tamaki had been delighted to have her, no matter how short the time.

Next, he pointed to the picture to the right of Tamaki's. It was an Ootori family portrait from when Kyouya was in middle school. It featured the Ootori men in a proud line behind his father.

"This is my family. That's my Father and my two older brothers. Aunt Fuyumi took this picture."

Kyouya fell silent, begging a question that would prove his impending lesson. It came quickly.

"Where is your mommy?"

"I didn't have a mommy." He stated simply, not caring to explain. He doubted he would be able to articulate it in a way that Touya would understand anyway. "Fuyumi-san took care of me."

"And Haruhi-san's mother died when she was little." He said, indicating a picture of Haruhi and her father taken during one of the Ouran Festivals.

"Wow, her mommy's pretty!" Touya said.

Kyouya chose not to correct him, thinking it better to address gender confusion at an older age.

Carefully, he set his son down on his own feet, and knelt before him so that he was at the boy's eye level. He fixed his glasses subconsciously and placed his hand firmly on Touya's left shoulder. He looked through two pairs of glasses to meet his son's eyes.

"There are all kinds of families, Touya. There are ones like Daddy's that live very far apart, ones like Mommy's that live very close but that aren't nice to each other, and ones like Haruhi-san's that are very close but are missing someone."

"You're right to think that I don't look like most people's mother's, and it's true that I can't be a real mommy like that." Touya nodded in understanding. His...Mommy sure was acting weird today. Nevertheless, he listened closely, trying to remember what he was being told.

"But even if you don't have a mommy like in the pictures," he pointed up at Tamaki's mother. "You have Mommy and Daddy, two parents that love you more than anything, _and_ you have Fuyumi-san, who is like a mommy."

"So I have two mommies?" Touya asked, eyes beaming, practically broadcasting pure excitement. In the last few minutes, as far as he could tell, he'd gone from having no mother to having two, and boy did he feel lucky! Kyouya sighed.

"No, Tou-kun. You have one mommy and two...daddies." Kyouya said in exasperation. For some indescribable reason, he hated the sound of that. It was just so...cliche.

"Let's just say that you have a very, very good family."

"The best one!" Touya shrieked, shrill voice echoing off the walls of the Music Room. Kyouya flinched. His ears apparently weren't used to such noise anymore. He shifted, returned to his feet, and straightened his suit.

"Hey Momm-" Touya stopped and looked up at Kyouya, as though silently deliberating something. "Uh..."

"How about _Papa?" _Kyouya suggested with an easy smile, moving to take Touya's hand in his.

Touya nodded with finality, and Kyouya paused momentarily at the resemblance.

"Hey Papa, can we go see Daddy now?"

"Yes, Touya-kun. I think that's a great idea."

He walked to the door in no particular hurry, taking one final scan of the ballroom, admiring the fine details of the space that he'd memorized through many long nights of accounting. While he'd been anxious and uncomfortable at first, he now almost looked forward to telling Touya of all the Host Club's adventures and mishaps, assuming he would even want to know. He grabbed his son's hand and led him out of the hallowed space, pulling the double doors behind.

As he turned to close and lock them, he could have sworn he saw a single rose petal fall from the ceiling. He smiled.

He always knew real life was better than fairy tales.

The doors locked with a satisfying click.


	9. Chapter 6: Written in Braille

**_Title: Objects in Motion_**

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, Hitachiincest, HaruhixKasanoda_

_Oh, my goodness! Such a sudden swell of attention! I'm very grateful to all of you for spending your time reading my work. Thank you very much!_

_This chapter is very different, stylistically, from the others, but I hope that it provides some insight into the past._

_Also, my updates may slow in the future because my college classes are resuming next Monday. I do intend to update, but I am very sorry if my progress slows. Please enjoy the chapter, because this one was a bit difficult to write!_

.

Kyouya looks at Suou Tamaki because it is the only thing he _can_ do. The only thing anyone can do.

He is a curiosity, a delight, a fantasy incarnate. He's built like a tower of cards with the edges glued together, all swings and sways and last minute reversals. And you think he's going to crumble some day, that each time he twirls his edges will come undone and you'll see the truth, the pile of card-stock chaos inside him. That you'll see through the cracks and you'll know that he is real.

But you don't.

Because if that were true, then you could look away. Could attach your attention to something less futile, something predictable and safe and female. But he doesn't crumble, not even as he cries in the corner and shows you pictures of a smiling French woman. So you keep watching, waiting, wondering what gives him the _right_ to come into your world and _dare_ to talk about freedom.

His shoulders stretch like sakura trees, expanding bony sinew until he fills every room he enters, and he smells not of flowers, but of _feelings_. He is an aura of emotion that plunges under the base boards of Kyouya's house and burrows its way deep in the foundations of his psyche.

Kyouya starts to see the threads that bind him. The secret ways that he _knows things_. The ways that he _needs_ without asking and _takes_ with out understanding why. He starts to hate Suou, because the truth is that he is selfish, that he does not want you, he needs you. While you think he's saving you, he's really just using you. And as much as it hurts, Kyouya knows that anyone will suffice.

Kyouya does his best to blame his father. They say that he has to serve Suou for the good of the business. But there is always a line, a roll of thunder before the lightening strikes, and Kyouya knows long before the storm rolls in that he is a terrible lair. He grows frustrated and hates himself and wonders what it wrong with him.

He is not a fool, not like Suou. He knows who he is, what he is, what he wants. Kyouya knows about appraisal, about judging a book by it's best point, whether that is the cover or the wandering lines of typography inside. He knows that he likes Suou's cover, that the words inside couldn't possibly live up to the perfect twist of his binding, and Kyouya knows that he wants nothing more than to crack open Suou's pages and plunge his fingers into the tightest spaces. He wants to scan the insides just to say he's done it, just to violate their sanctity and to remove the fascination of the unknown.

Yes, Kyouya knows how to appreciate beautiful things. But more importantly, he knows that art is put in museums to keep people from touching, to make them content to just look. And he looks. He looks because it's all he can do.

He indulges Tamaki's wishes because he must. He indulges Tamaki because it's entertaining. He indulges Tamaki because he wants to. Eventually, he indulges Tamaki because he simply cannot resist. Because Tamaki is a god among snakes, and his eyes can only see them for what they can be and never for what they are. One day, while watching him flirt with Jounouchi-san, Kyouya suspects that he was chosen. He discards the notion because it is ridiculous, because there isn't a single iota of forethought in Tamaki's delusional visions. Except that there is. There always has been. But Kyouya won't learn that for years.

It strikes him again in Kyoto that there were so many others who might be more worthy. Who would shamelessly bask in the light of Tamaki until their skin turns black and their hearts bleed into their lungs. He wonders why it was him. Was it pure luck? Or lack of luck, because Kyouya is infallibly pessimistic. Is it because he is the first person Tamaki meets, or because Kyouya looks so Japanese that he must be able to grant his Highness' every wish? He doesn't understand. He doesn't want to understand. He _needs_ to understand.

And so he stays, and he watches because that's _really_ all he can do. Kyouya's place in his own life has always been in the back seat.

When Tamaki suggests that they form a Host Club, he thinks he's being mocked. He thinks Tamaki must know out about Kuze. Or maybe he's always known. Or maybe he has no idea. Before Kyouya can do anything, before he can even find his breath, the Idiot King blows forward, reminds him that he's never had a choice in any of this. Except that he did, and he chose to follow his Highness to whatever fanciful destination he sets his mind to.

He stood content in the background, watching the entire world bend to the careless whims of the King. Watching the twins, the short blond kid and his skyscraper lap dog, practically every girl in the school, and even the Superintendent as they danced to the delicate twists of his ankles and the casual flicks of his thin-boned wrists. Kyouya distracts himself with advertisements and budgets and website point systems, but inside he feels the pressure building. He feels his eyes attach themselves to the deliberate flex of adolescent thighs, the trickle of budding sensuality that reaches out from thickening shoulder blades. And he looks because _he can't look away_.

Time passes, and Kyouya's preoccupation becomes troublesome. Because as simple as lust could be, he's beginning to see that it's not. And he's beginning to see that the words inside Tamaki's cover are not to be tossed aside, that some books are beautiful in their entirety, and this knowledge only fuels Kyouya's desire.

One day, he shows up at Kyouya's house and Kyouya realizes what he is doing, remembers what he is risking, knows the punishment for being caught. He walks into the parlor to see the words of Tamaki's soul reverberating from off the walls, and Kyouya wishes he could squeeze the life from those words, thinks he could live forever from their nectar alone. As hard as he tries to end it that day, all it takes is a flip of a chin, a flash inside the cover, and Kyouya's own hard cover spine snaps. And he screams his insides out because no one ever taught him about music and he knows Tamaki will remember things differently anyway. And instead of tossing him aside like so many of his failed fantasies, Tamaki remains still beneath his weight and he makes Kyouya wonder how he's ever going to escape.

Kyouya comes to a conclusion that day. For the first time he contemplates the impossible. He contemplates reality. He tries to combine the two and fails. He decides to look at Suou because anything more will ruin him. '_Look, but don't touch._' Fuyumi used to say. _'Look, but don't touch.'_

And he doesn't touch, but Tamaki does. Tamaki lives on touch, devours it like a fine pastry. The brush of fingers, the exhalation of breath mixing with breath, the sensation of warmth between just-barely-touching shoulders; these belong to him. He owns them because the words between his covers are written in braille. Tamaki's first language is not French. It is touch, and he speaks it with fluency into the stiff muscles of Kyouya's neck. Kyouya does nothing to discourage this, never shies away from his touch, but is careful never to reciprocate, lest he become addicted. But he is affected, despite all his reservations, because rich people didn't believe in physicality and Kyouya can't deny that he craves it.

Time passes, and Kyouya becomes comfortable. It is not so hard to drown in accounts and finances and stocks. He makes his first million before his senior year of high school, and be blames Tamaki for everything. As the passion of new desire fades away, he finds that an unsettling fondness and familiarity replaces it. He is not sure what to think. After 2 years of obsession, he can finally look away, and yet even as he thinks that the danger has passed, he notices that his new interests are merely replacements. This one is too quiet, that one is too girlish, the next one reminds him too much of Tamaki. All of the world is within his reach, yet he weighs the entire thing against Tamaki's many merits and finds them all to be cheap imitations. He is no longer enraptured, no longer trapped in Tamaki's shadow, yet he willing returns to it day after day.

One day he looks out and discovers something disturbing. He remembers that others are watching Tamaki too. Others examine his swaying tower, his perfectly fluid joints. And not just women. Something in Kyouya burns and he feels his true self rising up. His mind throws a tantrum as he feels fear for the first time. He's been down this road before, he knows where sleeping with men with get Tamaki, and he knows that Tamaki is just stupid enough to be curious.

Kyouya makes a decision, and for once merit has nothing to do with it. Kyouya decides that if it isn't him, then no one should be allowed to desecrate Tamaki. He takes steps to ensure this. He quashes the dangers with pointed efficiency. He becomes unsteady. He becomes possessive. He ensures that Haruhi's debt never runs low, carefully nudges Tamaki toward a future with marriage and a family and an honest girl who might just understand him. He hates himself for it, but he decides that pain is the essence of attachment and he has a certain protective instinct that he'd rather not own up to. Everything is a gamble. Kyouya prefers not to bet on himself.

To his disdain, everything goes as planned. Until Tamaki rides away in a red Cadillac convertible and Kyouya tries to tell himself that icy blue eyes aren't really that different from chestnut brown. He frowns bitterly and realizes that this is his chance to be done with it. To pretend this never happened and go back to being sensible and safe and miserable. He isn't surprised to find that he doesn't want it to be over. Kyouya isn't interested in safe or sensible and he is already miserable. He snaps shut his phone angrily and restrains himself from throwing it through the too bright windows. He tells himself that it's what he's been working towards, that this is what success is like and he begins to believe it. And then he doesn't.

Haruhi chases him, they jump in the river, Kyouya buys his father's company and sells it right back. It is a story book ending for everyone but no one will live happily ever after. Not yet, anyway. Over a glass of spiked punch, Kyouya bargains with himself, accepts that he's in too deep and he still has a bit of Tamaki wedged between the chambers of his heart. Nothing will ever be the same, and it's an oddly comforting thought.

It's midnight, he's a bit tipsy and he's dragging Tamaki to the roof top. He's yelling and screaming and Tamaki just looks apologetic. Kyouya feels like jerk. He wants to tell him everything, to wrap up his life in a neat little package, but he is not a poet. And with each heartfelt apology, Kyouya only grows angrier because Tamaki never gets it. So he settles for shoving him against the safety railing and punching him in the jaw.

He looks hurt, emotionally, and Kyouya doesn't have the energy left to care. "_You think we're better off without you? _ _Are you really that stupid?"_ he shouts. And Tamaki leans in close and smiles, bruise already forming on his cheek, and he hugs Kyouya tight, around the waist like a girl. Because Tamaki can read Kyouya too, and he knows the words Kyouya doesn't say, the words he replaces them with. He knows that when Kyouya says _"You're an idiot."_ he means _"Don't scare me like that."_ And so he swallows Kyouya's anger and breathes life into his weary limbs. And for some reason, it makes it all better. Kyouya feels pathetic but he slips back into the shadows because he needs something in this day to seem normal. Tamaki wears sunglasses the rest of the week and tells no one.

Kyouya eats his shame, holds on to the feeling of losing Tamaki. He lets it ferment, lets it age into a bitter, intoxicating liquor, lets the scent fill his mind with the future he's been building. The idea of Tamaki claiming a trophy wife sickens him. It is so unlike Tamaki and yet he was one car ride away. The image does nothing to satisfy and something in Kyouya breaks. He sits at his desk and, in light of that evening's events, revisits the possibility of blackmailing his own father. He considers the Suou family, what they would and wouldn't do, contemplates heirs and inheritance and the future. He knows it is impossible, but with Tamaki those things become merely improbable. He makes it his mission.

It is the weekend before they graduate, and they are in an onsen in Hokkaido, sober this time. Tamaki is discussing the merits of ambition and Kyouya is savoring the sound of that word on his lips. Their eyes meet and he wants to kiss him. He is expected home at eight and Tamaki is exhausted from a long day of practices and preparations, and he still hasn't found a way to make their relationship work. All of life is a gamble, and Kyouya likes to hedge his bets. He is a pragmatic man, he hates irrationality and unpredictability. It is not in his nature to be spontaneous.

And yet, Kyouya knows that isn't true. Sure, he _is_ practical, analytical, rational. But he remembers the day when he lost his control and began to see Tamaki, Tamaki and not Suou. He'd known then what he should do, what he ought to do, what was best. He knew that he should have kept his cool, that he ought to have apologized profusely and escorted Tamaki out, and instead he'd thrown over his coffee table, and shoved the son of the Suou to the ground. And when he should have pushed Tamaki away, he'd dug his fingers into his shirt and _pulled_. Because regardless of how he might act, that is who Kyouya really is.

And so even though the timing is all wrong, even though he is risking the only real friendship he's ever had, even though he doesn't even know what he'll do if it works out right, because it is _so damn unlikely _that it will work out right-

He kisses him.


	10. Inderlude: Gotcha

_**Title: Objects in Motion**_

_Pairings: TamakixKyouya, Hitachiincest, slight HaruhixKasanoda_

_Warnings: Okay, this chapter contains hints at a two very unusual pairinga, so I hope it doesn't bother you. I'm not going to say what they are because that would ruin the fun._

_To Silverflower8910: I am so glad that my writing has touched you in such a dramatic way. The purpose of writing, to me, is to make connections between people and I'm very glad that something I wrote was able to impact you so deeply._

_Thank you to all of my readers who have been so supportive of this story!_

_EDIT: This chapter is an interlude, so the characters and events are fairly unrelated to the plot. It's just a little character exploration that occurs in the past of this story.  
_

_._

Nekozawa gazed with longing into Ouran High School's 3rd Music Room from the sanctuary of the Black Magic Club. Kirimi was shrieking in delight as Suou filled her head with grand fantasies of her perfect, princely brother. He thought he might die.

"Suou-kun...Kirimi-chaaaaaan...", he whispered with deep yearning, taking solace in the fact that no one was there to witness his demise.

At least that's what he thought. Until a pocket evil beam clicked on in the corner to reveal a tall, dark haired figure.

"Ootori-san!"

Ootori leaned against the corner, writing in a black notebook, evil beam perched between his neck and shoulder. "I thought it would only be fair to warn you not to rely on that idiot." he said in his usual cool tone, head tilting towards Suou, never pausing in his scrawling.

For some reason, his comment stung.

"What are you talking about? Look at them..." Nekozawa replied in evident self pity.

Somewhat to Nekozawa's surprise, he did. And for several long seconds, he continued to look. But the significance was lost on him.

As quickly as it had been diverted, Ootori's attention snapped back. "He'll lose interest."

The statement seemed to be implying something but Nekozawa doubted that he was meant to know what. He wouldn't have paid any mind had it not been accompanied by a flash of distaste in his underclassman's eyes. Ootori was always harsh, so it really shouldn't have given Nekozawa pause. But for some reason, it aroused his interested.

He studied Ootori's face, took in the details, waited for some other inconsistency, some other indication that there was more to this man than there seemed. He'd never thought much about it until now, but he wondered why Ootori was in the Host Club to begin with. It didn't really seem to suit his tastes. However, Umehito knew from observation that the only real prerequisite to joining the Host Club was good looks. And as the upperclassman was beginning to notice, Ootori was not lacking in that department.

Suddenly, he realized that he'd been staring. For quite some time. Very unbecoming.

He chocked it up to the evil beam. It wasn't often that he was able to appraise anothers appearance in good lighting without being subjected to it himself. He was normally much more distracted.

Without warning, Kyouya stopped writing, closed the notebook with a snap, and shifted his gaze to Nekozawa. Their eyes met.

"Gotcha.", whispered Kyouya humorlessly.

Umehito tried to look away, tried to end this increasingly dangerous interaction when Kyouya began taking long, languid steps across the room in his direction. He must have learned that from Suou. He just looked too damn sure of himself. Too confident that his motions were affecting Nekozawa the way he wanted them to. Ootori slung his notebook carelessly onto a nearby cushion, never once looking away. Umehito wished he could hide behind his cloak and wig, but he'd taken them off once he returned to the sanctuary of the Black Magic Club.

In no time Ootori was directly in front of him. He quickly amended his earlier thought that the Host Club didn't really suit Kyouya. Because in that moment, Umehito Nekozawa would have sold his family fortune to keep that intense gaze on him just a little longer.

An arm rose to rest against the wall just to the left of Umehito's head. A second arm rested itself, predatory, above his right shoulder, barring his last escape. Kyouya's eyes never left his throughout the entire exchange. They seemed to whisper an endless river of secrets and foul plots.

"You like men." he whispered.

It wasn't a question.

He couldn't tell if Ootori was seducing him or threatening him. Was there even a difference to a guy like him? It crossed his mind that Ootori had a reputation for using any means necessary to achieve his goals. Umehito doubted that his body was excluded from this policy.

But all of his thoughts returned to the situation at hand when Kyouya bent over, closer and closer until his eyes were level with Nekozawa's and their noses brushed.

A streak of hot, terrifying arousal blew up inside Nekozawa. His breathing grew rapid and his heart felt as thought it would soon break through his ribcage. It was exhilarating but it was also frightening. Because Ootori was in Class A. Ootori could do anything he wanted with him; could buy out his family, could alienate him from his small group of friends, _could fuck him mercilessly in a fucking maintenance closet and_- -

Their eyes met once more in a penetrating gaze and Kyouya seemed to find what he'd been looking for. At this distance, Ootori's glasses did little to hide the glimmer of delight that flashed through his pupils. He moved closer still until his lips brushed Nekozawa's earlobe. Umehito could have sworn that their chests touched. He spoke like syrup, smooth, heady, and overtly sexual. His lips grazed Umehito's ear with each delicious syllable.

"Tamaki Suou is _**mine**_."

His world crashed like a falling aeroplane. He mind was reeling, stuck repeatedly screaming to himself. _**How **__did he know? How did __**he**__ know? How did he __**know**__?_

In the blink of an eye, Ootori was at the door to the room, notebook in hand. Umehito had thought his earlier glances had been dark, but this one was practically demonic. Sated and satisfied like the cats the Nekozawa family worshiped, Ootori opened the door, his usual polite demeanor easily back in place.

"You should really come visit the Host Club more often, sempai. We always welcome new guests."

_"even homos?" _Nekozawa's brain asked sarcastically.

"Y-Yeah..." stuttered Nekozawa breathlessly, still recovering from the previous encounter. He sincerely envied Ootori's god-like composure.

"And who knows, I might even be able to give you a discount if you designate me." The half-lidded, seductive look returned, but the tone remained detached and casual. This time, he had no doubt he was being toyed with. Umehito idly wondered if his club's offerings to the devil had secretly been going to Ootori the whole time.

As the door slid closed with a click of finality he wilted, sliding to the floor in anxiety. He was breathless, aroused, and above all else _terrified_. Yet...he thought to himself that he might just visit the Host Club tomorrow.

But not for Suou. Never again for Suou.


	11. Chapter 7: Bang! Bang!

Title: Objects in Motion

Series: Ouran High School Host Club

Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, Hitachiincest, HaruhixKasanoda

Hello, it's been a while, huh? I hope everyone still remembers where we left off! I know I had to give myself a refresher before I started writing again. Thanks for sticking with me. =]

This chapter is about half as long as mine usually are, but it's the best I could manage during school.

.

Several minutes after leaving the high school, they found themselves before another locked door. At first he thought the door was just too heavy for Touya, but that wasn't the case. His cell phone indicated quite clearly that Tamaki was in the Chairman's locked office, or at least, the cell phone housing his GPS locator was.

Speed dial #2. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Faint music sounded behind the door.

_"Daddy I'm so sorry, I'm so s-s-sorry yeah~ We just like to party, like to p-p-party yeah~"_

Kyouya winced. That was Tamaki's cell phone, alright.

_"Bang! Bang! We're beautiful and dirty rich!"_

He dialed 001 and the gruff voice of Tachibana sounded from the line.

"How may I assist you, Ootori-sama?"

"Tamaki's coordinates, please."

.

Tamaki reclinds further into the luxurious Arabian pillows of the Grand Lothario Host Club, and affects his most winning smile. His customers giggle appreciatively as he flirts, and reminisces about the opening of the club 4 years ago. He hasn't hosted in years, but the skill returns to him easily. The club is busy for a weeknight, and although he's never met any of these girls before, six have already requested another night with him. But he is a natural, after all. The club isn't he and Kyouya's most profitable business, but it was their first, and it was Tamaki's favorite to visit. But for the first time in his life, Tamaki needed to earn money, so here he is, in the trendy district of Kabukicho, selling his charms.

The Lothario is very different from the old Host Club. For one, they serve alcohol as well as tea, and the customers are quite a bit more demanding than the demure girls of Ouran. Nevertheless, his techniques are just as effective.

Later in the evening, after several rounds of champagne and a very silly game of cards, the mood abruptly shatters with the smooth opening of a door. All attention shifts as the lean figure of Kyouya steps smoothly across the marble floor. He seems perfectly normal, but Tamaki's Kyouya senses are tingling. He decided to fake it.

"Kyouya! What are you doing here, mon ami?" he asks with grandeur.

Kyouya bows to the ladies and smiles his merit smile. "Please excuse my interruption, ladies. May I borrow Suou-kun for a moment?"

A chorus of typical reactions sounds as Kyouya jerks him to his feet and all but drags him into the foyer. Yep, he's definitely mad about something. Tamaki plays oblivious.

"Something wrong, Kyou?" he asks innocently.

"What are you doing here?"

"This is our Host Club, Kyouya….Why shouldn't I be here?"

Kyouya's eyes darted sideways before flashing back to meet his.

"Why are you serving customers, Tamaki?"

This time Tamaki was the one to look away. He and Kyouya rarely fought, but these tight lipped conversations happened more often than he liked. An angry Kyouya is hard to deal with and Tamaki tended to say exactly the wrong thing in these fragile conversations.

"Did Touya do well in school today?" He said, forcing a light tone. Kyouya's mood became darker.

"How did you meeting this morning go?" Kyouya replied with a challenging tone. Touche.

"Please, Kyou, can we not fight—"

"We don't have to." He snapped, "You just have to tell me why you left your phone at Ouran and slipped off to flirt with a room full of ladies."

"Slipped off-?" Tamaki whispered "What's that supposed to—left my phone?"

Kyouya lifted Tamaki's slim, red phone from his suit pocket and dangled it between them. Oh.

"Non, non, Kyouya! Ce n'est pas comme ça!" _(No, no, Kyouya! It's not like that!")_

Kyouya did not seem appeased.

"Why are you here, Tamaki?" he repeated sternly. "In Japanese, please."

Tamaki reclaimed his phone and twiddled it nervously in his hands. He'd been debating all day whether to tell Kyouya or not. Kyouya had already earned his inheritance, _really_ earned it, and Tamaki honestly felt like he had something to prove.

He and Kyouya were _partners, _two halves working together, but Kyouya was pulling more than his weight in many ways. He put all of his earnings towards building the business and providing for Tamaki and Touya, and he still found time to watch the toddler while Tamaki worked at Suou Group. What had Tamaki done in return? He'd blown most of his salary on gifts and lavish vacations that only distracted Kyouya from work. It just wasn't right.

But this was his chance to correct that. To be responsible and help lift the burden off Kyouya. Their relationship ought to be equal—not the princely, self-sacrifice he sold at the Host Club, but a truly combined effort between them. Tamaki was certain that if Kyouya knew, he would try to do it for him. Kyouya always took care of Tamaki's problems. Kyouya even said once that he couldn't stop himself from doing it.

So that was that, Tamaki decided. He had to prove to Kyouya that he could pull his own weight, and that meant that Kyouya couldn't know about it until it was done.

"I'm here for the charity event, silly! Did you really forget? All of the hosts are donating an evening of their time and giving the profits to Ouran's scholarship program!"

Kyouya blinked and abruptly scrolled through his digital planner. Kyouya rarely forgot about things, and he usually became fairly embarrassed when he was caught. Tamaki used that to his advantage.

"Tell you what, how about you go home, sign some contracts and things, set up the chess board…" he said, leaning in close. "And when I get home we can play a game? I'll pour the wine and you'll pretend that you _don't_ know ten different ways to put me in checkmate, and we'll make a night of it."

Kyouya's tension eased, and Tamaki gave him a soft peck on the cheek before turning back to the door.

"Love you, Kyouya." He said heavily.

"I love you too." Kyouya whispered.

.

(Sorry for the Lady Gaga reference, but I just couldn't resist. Also, the first reviewer who can tell me the origin of the term "lothario" as well as the literal meaning of the word gets to request one scene in the next chapter. So put your guesses in the reviews!)


	12. Chapter 8: Horrible Men

_Title: Objects in Motion_

_Series: Ouran High School Host Club_

_Pairings: KyouyaxTamaki, Hitachiincest, HaruhixKasanoda_

_Welcome back! Thanks very much to my friend Meg L.H, who was so prompt in responding to my challenge last chapter. The plot device she requested is going to be very fun and interesting, and I'm sure you will all enjoy it when we get there in a chapter or two._

_Thanks, as always, for reading and please let me know what you think!_

.

Tamaki was late tonight.

Kyouya was in his office that late February night, waiting for the quarterly reports. They were to be released at midnight, and Tamaki was expected at eight. It shouldn't have been a race and Tamaki shouldn't have lost that race.

Kyouya read the report slowly, one word at a time, and forgot each sentence before its meaning had even fully registered. It was a never ending jumble of single kanji, not even real vocabulary. Moon. Day. Sun. Ten. Two. Six. Day. Two. Month. Nine. River. Rice patty. Combined they would mean something, a date and a name, but separate they were just some nonsensical nursery rhymes. Things rarely made sense when disassembled. Confusion was merely a symptom of not knowing all the facts.

Kyouya slammed his hands on his desk and the sounded echoed into the darkened corners. It was 12:30 on a Monday night and the glow of his laptop was his only companion. It lit the room in a pale light that made all the straight edges seem just a little off. It didn't flicker, wasn't anything organic or natural, but in Kyouya's frustration it seemed like it ought to. He wished it would, so that something in the room would move other than him.

Worse, the questions he asked himself remained unanswered. Why was Tamaki "raising" money that he could more than easily just take from his disposable income? One tenth of Tamaki's monthly salary could pay a year's tuition at Ouran so why was he fundraising? It didn't make sense! Kyouya's mind fumed like a speeding locomotive, plunging forward but stuck on one circular track._ Confusion is a symptom of ignorance._ _Doesn't make sense. Doesn't make sense. Doesn't make sense._

_._

Haruhi looked around the restaurant suspiciously. It wasn't fancy, just a small noodle place, only big enough for a bar and four tables of two. Cosy, she would call it. But that was just it—she hadn't chosen it. She unfolded a small note from her pocket, which she'd gotten in the mail of all things.

"_Dear Haruhi,_

_ I found this great restaurant you'll love! Meet me there on Monday? I'll be there from 10 PM to midnight, that way you can still eat there earlier if you don't want to see me._

_Love, Hikaru"_

It was 11:45, and she'd very nearly missed it, had nearly succeeded in talking herself out of it. Yet here she was, and she spotted him in the table at the back, with an assortment of glasses. No plates, she noted. He seemed surprised to see her. She supposed he was allowed that much, considering he'd been waiting for an hour and forty-five minutes. He seemed frozen in the moment for too long to be comfortable and then jolted back to Earth, a wide smile appearing out of nowhere. She still wasn't sure she wanted to be here. She sat down.

"I like your dress, Haruhi." He said smoothly in a tone resembling sincerity.

"…thank you." She said, uncertain of what else to say. Compliments were somewhat foreign when they weren't aimed at her career achievements or keen intellect. Worse, they were reminiscent of the Host Club, something that she now remembered more like an especially immersive book as opposed to something she had actually lived.

A grumpy waiter approached them and took their order. Something low and deep sang from the speakers, jazzy without being memorable, bluesy without being sad. The food was average but tasty, the atmosphere warm. Hikaru was a perfect gentleman, in his designer clothes and rich manner. It was like a movie, and the thought put her on edge.

Hikaru deftly changed the subject whenever she tried to bring up what had happened at the twin's studio. He offered her a ride back to her apartment, even though he had no idea where Haruhi lived anymore. Again she accepted without really considering whether she wanted to or not. The limo was dark and the streetlights seemed more like passing planets. It felt like a date, or at least like how she expected a date would feel when it wasn't with any of the men she'd dated. Which was odd, she realized, considering that Hikaru was among those few men that she had indeed gone on dates with. Life was so prone to repetition sometimes.

As if summoned by the thought, like in those old fairy tales her father told her, Hikaru drew closer. He slid down the long bench of the limo and gave her a smile that looked sad. Before she knew what was happening, he was leaning in and there was warmth on her lips.

.

Hikaru's world spun as he landed, half on the floor, head crushed against the hard plastic of the door. His air passages constricted, his entire being suspended in stasis, as Haruhi's arms withdrew from the motion of shoving, coming to wrap around her mid-section self consciously. She twisted her torso so that her bangs obscured her face, her breathing loud and rushed.

"What the hell was that?" she shouted.

He swore he felt his heart break, but it was probably just a pothole. He should have known it wouldn't be that easy. But he had to try, after all these years of wanting her so badly. They were perfect for each other, the three of them. Why couldn't she see that? It was always a possibility, being rejected, but somehow he hadn't expected to feel angry. Was he really that unappealing?

"Haruhi…"

"Stop the car." She demanded, looking out the window.

"But…we're not even close to your address."

"Stop the car."

She left no room for argument so he called the driver. They slowed to a stop near a park, whose trees swayed ominously in the shadows as she slammed the door in his face. Yokohama after midnight was no place for a young woman to be walking alone. For a moment hesitation held him, but only a moment.

"Driver, follow her. Make sure she doesn't notice you."

.

Haruhi ran. Why the hell did every single man in her life fall in love with her? Was she in some kind of stupid romance novel? She ran in a flurry of emotion through the park, only realizing after several moments that she had no idea where she was.

She thought back to the morning she'd met her father's friend in the park, and how she'd felt then. It seemed unreal, far-away and so much simpler. At least then, being approached by a man only meant dating, now every time a man looked at her she was beginning to fear that he would produce a ring from somewhere and demand she spend the rest of her life with him. She sighed. Exaggeration and sarcasm weren't going to help her get home safely.

Her eyes never paused as she followed the path to the other side of the park, always looking around and darting to look behind her. She felt like she was being watched for some reason, but she was certain it was just paranoia. Only cars and streetlights accompanied her journey, until she reached the edge of the park, at which point she was surprised to find a small pachinko parlor with a decent crowd of patrons milling about inside and in the nearby alleyway. It called to her somehow, begged to be noticed or remembered—of course! It was one of Kasanoda's parlors, the one from the picture! That meant she was near the Kasanoda-gumi. She was sure it was against all propriety, but Ritsu didn't seem to value that very much anyway.

She approached the building cautiously, unsure of what exactly she was doing or who she was looking for. Fortunately, before she even entered the building she was greeted warmly by a man she recognized from her many trips to the Kasanoda-gumi. It took a little while to overcome the man's over-willingness to please a friend of the young master, but once her predicament was clear the man had personally escorted her to the Kasanoda estate.

.

Kaoru gasped as teeth scraped down his earlobe. It was an old trick, but he'd been caught off guard by Hikaru's fervor. It seemed like the very second he heard the front door close he'd found himself trapped between the couch and Hikaru, off balance and incredibly aroused. Hikaru had a penchant for abruptness, but this was unprecedented. Just as quick, a tongue darted into his mouth and he did his best to reciprocate, despite the feeling that his brain was operating two seconds too slow. It was wetter than usual; he noted, with a forceful urgency to the movements—desperation. He went for the places that he knew Kaoru liked without stalling or teasing at all and that worried him. Without thinking he ground their hips together and Hikaru groaned. Hikaru was always noisy, but what sprang from his mouth surprised Kaoru.

"Please, Kaoru, make it stop."

"Hikaru?"

"I need you, brother. Haruhi-"

"You saw Haruhi?"

"She's—God, Kaoru—she's seeing Kasanoda!"

Kaoru blanched, hands clasped on either side of Hikaru's face. This was very bad. At least when Tamaki had stolen her Hikaru had been able to live with it, knowing he was trustworthy, but Kasanoda? This was going to destroy Hikaru. It probably already had.

Biting back a grimace, he trailed his hands down Hikaru's back, the way that always made him shiver, and gripped the backs of his thighs. Lifting his knee, he let his own thigh make contact with Hikaru's crotch and pushed. There was a soft sound to accompany the sharp exhale of breath, and Hikaru's forehead came to rest on his chest. They kissed again, slower this time, more deliberate, as Kaoru did his best to touch the right spots the right ways.

If Hikaru needed a distraction then Kaoru was going to give him one.

.

Kasanoda knew he was a horrible man for taking advantage of her like that. He wasn't sure how he was going to live with himself tomorrow, but right now it was worth it. Because when she'd sighed, eyes red from crying, cheeks red from embarrassment, and when she'd looked up from his lap with bright eyes, all gentleness and penance, and said in a tired voice that she was so grateful to him for always being there….

He'd kissed her, right on the cheek, and he'd felt bad only because he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

.

The Suou-Ootori Mansion had an imposing silhouette when the lights were off, pointy spires cutting like daggers into the starry sky.

Tamaki tried to keep quiet as he prowled the silent house. The servants had gone home hours ago and only the dim sconces were still lit. He had messed up, offering to cover the late shift. Kyouya would be angry and Tamaki hated changing clothes in the dark. The marked swagger in his step and the laggy lull of his senses did little to help the matter. He'd drunk tonight, hadn't had a choice, really. Even so, he'd made a new record for the club's commissions, thanks to a very extravagant birthday party and a team of very skillful hosts. He hoped Kyouya was already asleep.

Once in the bedroom, he leaned around the corner cautiously, trying to get a peek at the vague shape of the bed.

"Sore from working, Tamaki?"

He jumped, easily frightened, and nearly fell as he instinctively turned toward the source of the sound. The dark, lean figure of Kyouya stood at the door, arms crossed, but with a face of practiced impartiality.

"Kyouya!"

"Tamaki." He replied smoothly, "I was just inquiring whether you were bent over so strangely because you were sore from working so late." he continued with contrived little inflections, like he was reading a line from a script.

There was a certain light to his eyes that made Tamaki tense. He had actually been trying to see if Kyouya was asleep, but that sounded kind of guilty in his mind's ear, sounded like he was hiding something. So he latched on to the excuse.

"Oh! Yes, I'm… very ah…._very sore_. The chair in my office just isn't what it used to be, you know? I should really get a new one soon."

"Well that's too bad." Kyouya said pleasantly, striding toward and eventually around him.

Tamaki followed him with his eyes until Kyouya circled behind him and he couldn't anymore. The move was predatory, and Tamaki kept his eyes forward, feeling like a prisoner under interrogation. Then, unexpectedly, Kyouya's hands were on his shoulders, kneading and circling around muscles that weren't the least bit tight. Lounging on couches and drinking 10,000¥ bottles of champagne weren't exactly known for being stressful. Nevertheless he played it up, letting out pleased little groans and directing him lower, lower, a little to the left. Next there was warmth at his neck, rhythmic puffs of breath followed by wet, toothy kisses, wrapping around to his jaw—a nibbling at his ear that made his own breath hitch. Finally, there was a whisper in his ear, deep and scratchy.

"What's this smell, Tamaki?" he hissed. "Drinking at work? Even in the hotel business that must look unprofessional."

In a flash his body was as stiff as a corpse. His gasp sounded as loud as a siren in the dark house. Kyouya's fingers dug into his back, probably felt every quiver of his diaphragm, every shaky swallow of his throat.

"Unless it was _one of those_ clients, of course. The ones that want you to drink with them." Kyouya's voice betrayed him this time, a little crack at the word "client", barely noticeable. Air squeezing through tight vocal cords but making no sound.

"O-of course it was, Kyouya! What do you take me for, darling?" he said laughing, twisting around in Kyouya's arms until they were facing each other. He knew he was grasping at straws. Kyouya's brow twitched at the pet name and he realized he'd screwed up.

Kyouya leaned in and kissed him, not quite on the lips, not quite on the cheek. Kyouya sighed, and Tamaki could feel the weariness in it.

"Well, at least it's not like the Host Club. Odds are you won't be meeting with that client again for another year or two." Kyouya said darkly, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, voice cracking again at the mention of 'clients'. They changed and climbed into bed without speaking.

Kyouya slept perched on the edge of the bed that night, so close that Tamaki thought he might fall off, curled onto his side, his back like a great sloping wall.

.

_I wanted to post it as soon as possible, since you've all been waiting so patiently, so It's not very well proofed. Sorry if there are typos, I will probably go back and proof it again soon._

_Also, from now on I'm going to make a Reviewer's Response challenge, since I had so much fun responding to last chapter's trivia. So, here's RR#2:_

_~Have you every wrongly suspected that a partner was cheating on you? (Meaning that they actually weren't but they were behaving in a way that made you think they were.) If so, what were they actually doing? What about this behaving made you suspect?_

_The review with the most interesting, unexpected, or unique story will get to request a scene that they would like to see in the coming chapters!_

_Thanks for reading, and I look forward to hearing your stories!_


End file.
